Love in Three Acts
by BittenBee
Summary: Bella, Rosalie, and Alice own an interior design firm called Dazzle. The last thing they expected was to find love with a few unlikely men in their lives. Three acts that each contain a ten-chapter love story. Romance, AH. Canon themes.
1. Act One: Chapter 1

**ACT ONE  
**

**Chapter 1**

**1.1**

Emmett McCarty dropped his bags on the floor, looking around at his childhood room. There was a small pine dresser for his clothes that he was surprised still stood; the drawers had gotten stuck often before he'd wrenched them open. The posters on the walls, varying from sports stars to bikini babes, were crinkled at the corners and had ripples running through them. In the corner a pair of old sneakers hunched pathetically.

He took another step in, and the same old floorboard creaked. The corner of a familiar red and white mesh jersey poked out of his dresser drawer. He tugged at some of it, enough to see the faded colors that still sported dirt and grass stains. He could almost smell the football field in the fibers, hear the cries of fans.

Not a damn thing had changed here. But everything had changed for Emmett.

He shoved the jersey back in the drawer and went to the window, knowing the view well. A spring drizzle had welcomed him back into town. His small Massachusetts suburban neighborhood looked the same as he remembered, with its cookie-cutter houses lined in a grid. The yards still recovered from winter, the new growth squashed under spring rains. Toys from the neighborhood kids were left outside. Bikes leaned against garages.

It all reminded him of a faded photograph he might find looking through a box of memories.

His hometown used to be a place of excitement for him. The activity of school and sports, his first Jeep, the summers with his dad working at McCarty's Automotive. People could always spot him with a group of friends, wearing his letterman jacket and his arm around a girl.

_Girls._ Whether it was a sweet one who wanted a taste of him or a clever one who wanted to own him, he'd always taken up with a woman. He couldn't help it; he enjoyed women, the way they smelled, their skin, their laughter, their sighs.

The past played back to him, drawing out a smile. His mischievous childhood here. His prime-life in Tennessee. Tennessee was also in the past, he reminded himself. A football scholarship cut short hadn't been in his life plan.

"You want some lunch?" his dad called from the foot of the stairs.

Emmett made his voice work past the tightness building there. "Sure. Be down in a sec."

Joe McCarty's struggling footsteps bumped around below as he headed back to the kitchen.

Emmett sighed.

He didn't want to inherit his dad's auto shop, but the backup plan had fallen into his lap. Joe was too old to work but too stubborn to sell.

If it weren't for Emmett's shoulder injury, a torn rotator cuff the doctor had called it, he'd still be tossing the football around the field. He'd still be knocking through the other team's defense. He'd still be playing for the Titans.

But the injury left his shoulder weak and aching. The muscle had healed, but there was no way he could sustain any sufficient athletic movement without the pain deepening, without causing muscle inflammation. After his shoulder healed, therapy increased his mobility, but it would never work how it used to.

He'd felt so limited. So trapped. So angry.

Healed injury or not, his spirit had taken a scarring. He made a fist at his side, a whisper of the hopeless anger rising on an inhale.

A clatter downstairs brought him back.

He should be helping his dad prepare lunch.

Emmett descended three steps at a time. He opened the fridge, sniffed the milk from the carton. Satisfied it was still good, he poured two glasses. Then he sat at the kitchen table as Joe handed him a plate. Like his dad, Emmett was built broad and muscled, and between the two of them, the table looked like a playhouse piece.

Joe used to be thicker and brawnier, but his limbs had gotten thinner and his belly bigger. He was still rugged from years of mechanical work, and his hands and wrists were particularly knobby. But his doctor warned him he had to slow down, and since Emmett didn't have any immediate prospects, he'd come home.

Sandwiches were piled high with cold cuts and pickles. Emmett inhaled one within a few bites.

"Did I tell you Coach Clearwater owns the Fire and Ice bar in town?" said Joe. "Retired from the high school and fixed the place up a few years ago."

Emmett washed down his food with a gulp of milk. "You've mentioned it." He reached for the second sandwich in his stack.

"He needs a hand these next few weeks. His son went on a road trip."

A road trip sounded like just the thing Emmett needed, but he held back the sarcastic remark. "Good for Seth. Is he still getting himself into trouble?" He remembered Seth as a scrawny little kid, never bulking up fast enough to join the team. So he'd followed some of the bad crowds to piss off his father.

"Not much. He and Leah have been busy running the bar. Anyway, I told him you had experience."

"I thought you wanted me to run the shop," Emmett reminded. His dad had taught him everything he knew about building and fixing cars. During the summers they restored some classics; Joe could do what he loved and bond with him over it. Emmett had liked the work. He'd always been better at taking action and hands-on learning, than memorizing textbooks. "How am I going to do that if I'm bartending every night?"

"Coach is a family friend. Besides, we can get by with Paul for a few more weeks. And I'm still there."

"Yeah, right." He tried not to smile. His dad was still trying to manage everything. "Who's going to make sure you stay in the front office?"

Joe chewed, looking at him from under thick, untamed eyebrows. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Don't give me a reason to be one." He popped a bite of his sandwich into his mouth. "You need me here and we both know it. I don't expect it to be sunshine and roses, but we've got to face facts. I won't let your life's work run into the ground."

"I told him you'd start tomorrow."

"I figured, by the way you've been hedging." Emmett ripped into a third sandwich while Joe worked on his second.

It was no secret to his dad that Emmett had wasted a few months in a Nashville bar while his shoulder was on the mend, tending and drinking until denial had caught up with him. He wasn't in such a hurry to go back to a bar. But...Emmett had a weak spot for lending a hand to others.

"I suppose it might be nice to catch up with Coach..." he eventually conceded.

Sooner or later he'd have to look into familiar faces and accept their loud sympathy and unspoken disappointment. He didn't want to hide from anybody. Gossip would say the football prodigy Emmett McCarty had returned and with nothing to show for himself. What a shame, they'd say.

**1.2**

Rosalie Hale secured her X-Acto blade into the magazine and sliced against a ruler with the steady hand of a surgeon. She lifted out the swatch of pattern from the page. It was a warm off-white with scratches of plum purple, flecked with gold. She held up the clean-edged square with satisfaction. The swatch was more than research. It was_ inspiration._

She could see it now as ceramic tile set in a trim line above a gleaming stainless steel oven. Mahogany cabinets would set off the purple, and rough-shined brass knobs would bring out the golden flecks nicely. Simple radiance. She could almost see the effect under an afternoon sun coming through the window above a steel sink. But... she was getting ahead of herself now.

She tacked up the swatch to her white corkboard, saving it like a jewel.

Rose determinedly focused on her job as much as she did on her well being. Often the two were one and the same from her perspective. After her divorce a year ago, she was relieved Dazzle, her interior design firm, became something she and her best friends Alice and Bella all wanted to run.

Divorce was not a decision she'd envisioned for herself. But neither was staying married to Royce King. The marriage had been the same from start to finish: _civilized and stifling._ There had been no deep interest, no kindness, no real love. There had been plenty of politeness and boredom.

Her mother had told her they were a very good-looking couple. When she'd stopped listening to her mother, Rose realized it had been one awful mistake. She'd cast her marriage vows aside like a bad book.

She hadn't wanted to hold out for a big fish her mother had groomed her for. She had fought for little dreams and forbidden crushes on boys. Her longest was on an Emmett McCarty, her brother Jasper's friend. Waiting for her mother's approval, well...she'd learned not to hold her breath. Small dreams fell to the side and Emmett had moved away.

Alice and Bella supported her when she had failed, when she was at her lowest. Their friendship had weathered the years together from elementary school to college, having a natural dynamic socially and—as they found out later—professionally.

Though Alice had been a valuable buyer for a fashion boutique and Bella recently promoted to assistant architect at an engineering company, they'd taken a chance on Rose's aspirations. Décor was Rose's passion, her therapy. And she'd decided on a very memorable day to take control of her future.

Dazzle was still a start-up of sorts, but no amount of overworking and late hours would dissuade any of them from building their business into a vibrant success.

Everyday she was surrounded by color, arranging and playing with tones, always searching for what worked best and what new clients wanted.

She lingered on gradients, shade, intensity, trends and style, and caught the beauty in how they sang together. And when they didn't, she'd rework them until they did.

She laid her X-Acto knife down and rubbed her eyes. Then she fixed her loosened hair, refastening it into a tail at the base of her neck.

At the little kitchen aside her studio, she mixed a fresh cup of coffee.

Bella knocked and let herself in. The March breeze blew at her dark-brown hair as she shut the door. She carelessly swept the tangle from her face, letting her hair settle back on her shoulders. "Morning. Oh, coffee." She tore off her coat and tossed them on the back of a chair behind the breakfast counter.

Earlier Rose had carefully draped her own coat on the loveseat when she'd come back from morning errands. Looking at it next to Bella's, she knew she should have hung it up.

"You use me for my coffee."

"You have the fancy kind." Bella's eyes glazed as Rose poured another cup and handed it to her. Bella dumped in sugar and glugged it down. "This is real bliss. What colors are you thinking for Pierce?" she asked, seeing Rose's cluttered desk and new additions to the corkboard.

Newlyweds Garrett and Kate Pierce wanted warm and playful for their new nursery.

The meeting had gone well. After an introductory conference call, they went to visit the site to take measurements and get an overall feel for the space. They discussed the Pierces' tastes, tossed around sketches and a few ideas that improved on Kate's original vision.

Alice was still readying the paperwork.

"I have some ideas," said Rose. "Gender-neutral ideas."

"Nice. I'm looking forward to this project. The building itself is only a few years old. There's nothing awkward about the placement of the windows or heating units in the room. I really think this will be the easiest project we've had since day one." Fighting a yawn, she downed the rest of her coffee.

"This is sounding good." Rose set down her empty mug and crossed the studio to gather her binder of color and fabric samples. "Let's discuss it further upstairs. You know Alice doesn't like when we're late to meetings."

They headed into the main house. The interior was grand and spacious, rich yet unfeeling—as her mother, Lillian, had been. Rose felt there would be an excess of air and loneliness if her friends hadn't lived with her.

During Dazzle's inception, Alice had moved in, and there were enough communal rooms in between to make it comfortable. With some of her parents' inheritance, Rose had the second story of the garage redesigned into a charming apartment for Bella. So far, the arrangement happily suited everyone.

Alice was pouring coffee into her YOUR MAJESTY princess mug when they joined her in her office. "Just made a fresh pot. It's strong," she said after taking her first sip. No matter how busy or lax her day was, Alice wore fashionable power suits that had soft angles and always accentuated her petite, slender figure.

Alice studied Bella, who took a seat at the small conference table. "Looks like you already had your fill. Don't deny it. I see that glassy, wired look in your eyes. You've had the good stuff."

Bella tossed her pile of papers down. "I can't drink that French roast you subject us to. It gives me heartburn."

Rose set down her binder before bringing the tray of muffins to the table. Alice's laptop was already open, her iPhone and papers organized beside it. Not delaying another moment with idle chitchat, Alice got right down to business, her hands hovering over her keyboard.

"Bells, why don't you begin with the plans you worked up for Pierce."

After two beats of silence, Alice looked up to see Bella's mouth full and chewing blueberry muffin. Bella put a hand to her mouth apologetically.

Alice sat back and sipped her black coffee with bored patience. "I suppose you need sustenance to absorb _the good stuff_."

Bella swallowed and cleared her throat as she spread out her sketches and blueprints. "Very funny. Since the room is small, I think it's best to keep as much floor space as possible. We can add built-in shelves along the wall, with a sliding door to hide clutter. Lighting will be ceiling and wall sconces. I'll talk to the electrician about installing a fixture that dims and can be remote controlled."

Alice was at the tail end of typing up Bella's progress. "What about you, Rose?"

"I'm thinking light, airy tones to make the room appear larger while letting it keep its softness." She pulled out swatches from her binder. "I love this pale sage green for the walls, and light chestnut furniture for warmth. Accent choices could vary from indigo to sky blue, and sunflower-yellow to brighten it."

Alice hummed her agreement. "Are there any other safety precautions to keep in mind?"

Bella unwrapped another muffin. "The building already meets codes."

"So, I need to finish the paperwork. Bells, if you want to ready some sketches and talk to the contractor, and Rose, printouts of color and style samples." Her words ran through a deep breath and into, "Next project. Newton's master bath."

Bella groaned. "I don't know how many times I can rework the design before losing my sanity. What did Jessica Newton say this time?"

"Nothing helpful. I'm going to have a serious talk with her today about sticking to one idea," said Alice severely. "Any more changes and we'll have to revisit the budget."

"She's our wealthiest client. We can't lose her," said Rose.

Alice leaned back in her chair. "I'm aware of that. But she's preventing us from doing what she's hired us to do. Anyway, it'll be fine. I'm having her come here to talk it over. A little sparkling wine and desserts from the bakery should be a good start to what I have to say. By the time I'm done with the woman she'll fall back in love with the original plans."

**1.3**

In her pale blue suit and simple heels, Alice stood by the front window watching Jessica swing out of her convertible and sashay along the stone walkway at a determined pace. Alice took a deep breath and fixed a cheerful smile on her face before opening the door.

"Jessica, thanks for coming down. You must have such a busy schedule filled with fundraisers and community events. I do appreciate the time you're sparing."

"It's…the least I can do." Jessica Newton spoke as if she really did have countless things to attend to but decided to generously spare Dazzle a few moments.

She unbuttoned her short mink coat as Alice led her to a seat in the parlor room. Two chairs and a table were set up for their meeting.

"Happy to hear it." Alice lifted the porcelain coffee pot from the cart. "Coffee? Or would you prefer sparkling wine?"

Since Dazzle usually went to the client's site, Jessica had never been to the Hale home before. Now she looked around its rich interior and open spaces with some appreciation.

"Wine, please."

Alice took the chilled bottle out of the ice bucket and poured two glasses. Then she nudged the dessert tray closer to Jessica.

"We're very excited you chose Dazzle to do your master bath. It's going to be as grand and luxurious as the rest of your magnificent house."

"Thank you, but—"

"It'll be as breathtaking as it will be fully functional." Alice wasted no time in opening her binder and laying out the original sketches and samples. "We've taken your changes into serious consideration," she continued, remembering Jessica's _changes_ as a shrill complaint detailing that the tub didn't have enough whirlpools, the tiling not as intricate, the sink counter too bulky.

"Now I know you wanted a larger Jacuzzi, but if we keep the size as is, the sauna room won't be so cramped. If you're looking for extra perks and grandeur, we can install a stereo speaker system in the sauna for a soothing musical experience, which would also block out the loud pattering of the shower and bathtub fixtures."

"An interesting idea," said Jessica, reserved.

"And how do you feel about a heated flooring system? When you finish a relaxing bubble bath, cold tiles are the last things you want to confront. We can adjust the cost with these little perks instead of cramping the space under a new design."

Jessica's expression brightened.

"And I doubt anyone on the block would have a bathroom as magnificent as yours," Alice added for effect.

Her smile was warm yet firm as she let her words weave a fantasy into Jessica's mind. She could see the woman's gears turning into full-fledged delight.

"A heated floor. You know, not even the Crowleys have that. I do like the stand-in shower where it is next to the Jacuzzi bath. We'll keep the size. That would give me a larger sauna. Let's do that!" She took a heavy swallow of the bubbly and helped herself to a chocolate butter cookie.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. It's going to be your very own spa-like retreat at home."

They tied up a few other details in Jessica's favor, estimated pricing, sipped wine and laughed lightly. Alice accepted compliments about the Hale home on Rose's behalf and then made sure the woman left full and happy (and not too tipsy to drive).

When Jessica was gone, Alice leaned against the closed door, feeling much better about moving forward on the Newton project. She didn't like unnecessary complications. Then she cleared away the dessert tray and, suddenly restless, went to find her girls.

**1.4**

Emmett found himself covered in a thin layer of grime from head to toe. He had just finished funneling dirty motor oil from brimming catch pans into gallon jugs. Surrounding him were hoses tangled, plugs mixed in with bolts and studs and tools. Broken parts hadn't been properly disposed of. One of the florescent lights flickered overhead and irritated his senses.

He couldn't believe his dad had let the shop become so disorganized.

It was clear to Emmett that Paul hadn't minded working among the clutter. Paul had a stocky build and a short ponytail hanging out the back of his baseball cap as he whistled a never-ending tune over a greasy engine all day. He knew a lot about cars but worked at his own pace and took frequent cigarette breaks.

Emmett reminded himself to tackle one issue at a time.

A few customers had come and gone, forcing his dad to get used to his new role in the front office. Joe was resistant at first, and cursed in front of customers when the computer eluded his commands.

Word whispered through ears that Emmett had landed back in town. Customers' eyes widened, questions were polite or unspoken, and they left with burning thoughts. Then the phone began to ring. His dad's barks and leisurely chatter had confirmed those inquiring calls, too. And news continued to spread with occasional drive-bys of people hoping to get a glimpse of Emmett.

He waved sometimes, flashed his grin. He kept his head held high, forcing on his good-natured side. If he had anything going for himself, it was endurance.

Endurance kept him up when he'd taken a fall on the field, kept him practicing past his limits. Endurance would keep him from the seductive edge of hopelessness that he'd danced near too many times. And because he didn't have to answer to anybody but himself, he accepted his life as it had turned out. What else could he do?

By late afternoon he couldn't spare another moment to the garage. He had to clean up and head over to Fire and Ice for a long night of bartending. With a last look at the disarray, he took his rag from his back pocket and wiped off his hands to no avail. Carting off the jugs of dirty oil to a gas station for recycling would have to wait until tomorrow, he thought, leaving a happily oblivious Paul and climbing into his Jeep.

He washed up, paying extra attention to scrubbing his fingernails, and changed his clothes before arriving at the bar. He parked around back. Fire and Ice was a well-known establishment in town where most of the young, hip crowds gravitated.

Inside the lights were on high. The bar gleamed black, encasing the expansive wall of liquor that twinkled like jewels. A young woman cursed, cleaning glasses and wiping down surfaces. She was tall and toned, and cast him a curious yet guarded look.

"Sign says we're closed." Her voice was strong, and carried.

"Door was open. I'm Emmett McCarty, the fill-in. Is Mr. Clearwater here?"

She tossed the rag aside and came around to him. She wore faded jeans and a tank, her tanned skin glowing under the bright ceiling lights. He thought most people might retreat a few paces when a woman like that neared so forcefully, looking to cut a man to shreds with those black-onyx eyes. But he stood his ground. And because women appreciated it, he grinned and let his generous gaze trail over her figure.

In flat tennis shoes she was nearly of the same height as he was. In seconds she sized him up, snorted, and decided he was a big harmless idiot. Her wide mouth relaxed. If he did try anything, she thought, she could handle it.

Then abruptly she yelled, "Dad! The temp is here." She turned away.

"Leah."

"What gave it away?"

He continued grinning, following her to the bar. "Hard to say."

She pulled out a faded little notebook from the side of the register. "All our drinks." She tossed it at him.

He caught it in one hand but didn't open it. "I know my way around a bar."

She went back to cleaning glasses, humming. She glanced sidelong. "Weren't you supposed to be some famous football player?"

Amused, he picked up a glass and a rag and cleaned beside her. "Weren't you supposed to be a sweet little thing?"

Her laugh erupted, quick and throaty. "Honey, I never do what I'm supposed to."

"I think we're going to get along."

Her smile sharpened into a snarl. "You can try."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" He bumped her elbow in a friendly way.

Leah's snarl widened and she looked more wolfish than ever. He laughed at her. After a few moments she gave up with a shrug and dried the next glass.

**1.5**

While Alice had dealt with Jessica, Rose worked on the computer for a few hours looking at accessories and styles. Ideas clicked in and out of her mind until the pieces fit. The trick was to fasten _different_ elements into a harmonious result, not combine a lot of the same.

Her mind was in nursery mode, thinking of the sweet baby that would soon inhabit a room she decorated. She made a few phone calls to check if stores had certain pieces in stock for her to come by and examine.

Then she transferred Bella's measurements into AutoCAD and played with the room. The 3D program let her envision details without a lot of the guesswork she used to do. It was also easier for the client to see what the space would look like in its final stages after she printed out the mockups.

When her eyes felt strained and her belly whined from hunger, she went into her mini-fridge in search of leftovers. Chinese. Her appetite shuddered in protest at the thought of cold grease and pebbly rice. Maybe it was time for a real hunt, she decided, and left her studio.

In the main kitchen she found her brother Jasper bent over the open refrigerator much in the same fashion she had been moments ago. He was still in his chef's coat, the first few buttons undone.

"Anything good in there?"

Jasper looked up and closed the door, a glass baking dish balanced in one hand. He had blond hair long enough to mess on top and curl at his ears, and a smile that was impossible to resent. Rose's eyes were a softer blue compared to Jasper's cerulean, and unlike the kitchen burns and scars decorating his forearms, her scars were on her heart.

He pulled off the plastic wrap and inhaled. "Lasagna. Smells good enough to eat cold and tough."

She programmed the oven. "Not working tonight?"

"Only the lunch shift today. Jane's running the kitchen for dinner service."

"Got a hot date?" She elbowed him as he undid the rest of his white coat.

He elbowed her back, plucked a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with tap water. "I had a dentist appointment. Not nearly as exciting."

Jasper had his own residence not far but frequently visited the Hale home. Since their parents' sudden death a year ago, there had been no more fancy parties, no business meetings disguised as five-course meals. Rose hadn't lived with her parents since before her marriage, but she remembered the lifestyle well.

The Hales had been climbing socialites, rising from new money, and relied on their status and wealth to provide for their family. Often, nurturing had been an afterthought. Lillian Hale was like a diamond: as cold as a stone and glittered prettily. But she'd fussed over Rosalie and Jasper ruthlessly, about good sitting posture and never to cough open-mouthed to keep germs from landing on her. An impressionable girl, Rose had wanted to prove she could be the perfect daughter. That she could even _surpass_ expectations.

Those expectations had driven her straight into Royce's arms.

Alice breezed in, pocketing her iPhone. "It went better with Jessica Newton than even you can imagine, Rose. I've been mentally patting myself on the back since—hi Jasper—she got into her car and drove off. We're back to the original design, with a few added features."

Jasper went to sit at the breakfast nook and propped up his feet on the chair next to him. "Put the woman in her place, did you?"

Her mouth curved. "She thinks the decision was her idea."

"Ah. Playing like a pro."

"There's no other way to play."

Bella entered the kitchen, shrugging her coat onto a hook by the doorway.

Alice relayed the good news to her.

"Wonderful," said Bella. "I met with the electrician and drew up a contract for him. Alice, you and I need to go over Jessica's master bathroom before I give the go again to Jake's construction crew."

"I'll give you a copy of the meeting notes," Alice said, adding a reminder into her phone as she spoke. "We should celebrate the small victory. I really need a cocktail and crazy music after the day I've had."

Jasper gave her a long look. "Maybe you need a big brother type to watch out for all of you. I can't have anyone putting the moves on my Dazzle girls."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Hold it there. I aim to have a good time with my friend Tom Collins."

**1.6**

Fire and Ice came alive at night. The beat of the music throbbed low and dim lights twinkled. Along the walls were flames of fire-red sconces mixing with the unmoving ice-blue light fixtures that dripped from the ceiling. Everything about it was sleek and dark and humming with people.

Women stared in awe ar Emmett's broad, limber build moving behind the bar. A few thought he needed a haircut while others yearned to run their fingers through the dark thick of it. And when he grinned at them, a dimple flashed at the corner of his mouth, causing hearts to flutter. Some offered him shoulder massages, and a little extra something later to take the edge off.

Returning, Emmett thought, might've just been the best cure for a wounded man.

He saw many familiar faces over the shaker, most of them former classmates. They wondered over every tidbit he shared. Yes, he lived in Nashville. No, he had no plans to return. Yes, he survived an athletic injury. No, football was not in his future anymore. Yes, he was living here for good. And when questions hit too close to heart, he had their drinks ready.

Some people attempted to trick secrets out of him. Others looked genuinely happy to see him. But by then it was known Emmett McCarty had rushed off to Tennessee with every hope of making himself a success, and came back six years later with nothing to show for it.

In the end, they took it pretty well.

And his tips overflowed, much to Leah's outrage.

"I should go away and come back a failure. Then maybe I'd be showered with money too," she snarled over his shoulder as she topped off cocktails with club soda.

Without a second's hesitance he'd trade in his bad shoulder for anything to play again. He glanced back. "Don't take it so badly, _honey_. You've got plenty of assets to work with it."

Leah would've thrown a punch into his side, he was sure, if fresh customers hadn't grabbed her attention.

His smile faded when a woman pushed through raucous conversation to stand at the bar. She was a blonde on a mission. She sent a steely look to a short man trying to nudge into her spot. The man shrank back. As she settled in, she looked uncomfortable with so many people staring at her. But a woman like that, Emmett knew, would always stand out.

She had a flawless, classic beauty and golden hair running in sleek waves down past her shoulders. Under the diffused blue and red lighting, her skin glowed otherworldly, and her full lips shimmered a rosy hue. But the picture wasn't all softness and beauty; something in her expression held back.

In spite of that, Emmett's mouth dried.

Then her eyes connected with his. They assessed each other openly, as if wondering how far the horizon extended, and what was beyond it if they dared to go.

Emmett reminded himself to breathe, as he had done before games.

He leaned in, closer than he usual did to customers, and asked her what she wanted to drink. And he caught her floral scent.

She spoke carefully. "A vodka martini, a strawberry daiquiri, and a Tom Collins please."

Such a serious tone, he noticed, like she was condemning a man. He flashed her a grin. "Planning ahead? I promise I'll be here all night."

"I'm with friends." Her pale blue eyes searched him, unspoken words clamped in the tense line of her mouth. He'd gotten that shocked expression frequently tonight. And yet, there was a sadness weaved into her look.

He got started on the order. "I'll still be here all night." When she didn't say anything, he said, "Let me guess, you're the daiquiri."

"Wrong." Her fingertips played with the edge of a damp coaster. "Do I look like that kind of girl?"

"Thought you might be into sweetness."

"Sweetness," she repeated. Her gaze moved away from his, distracted inwardly. Then back to him.

"But I should know better. You seared the guy trying to bump you. It's been a while since I last bartended. In Nashville."

He was picking up serious, elegant, and an unswerving spark in her. So he filled the shaker for the martini, and hoped he was right.

"That's where you were. Where you're supposed to be," she said.

"Things change. I take it you're from around here then."

She tipped her head. "Same as you."

"I think I'd remember you." He flashed her another quick grin, topped the martini with an olive, and set it in front of her. "Hell, I don't think I'd ever forget you."

"Interesting," she said, giving him a more thorough look. He liked it, as she picked up the martini and sipped. He'd been right.

"Not as interesting as you," he said. He refilled another shaker for the Tom Collins. "What kind of gin does your friend like?"

"Tanqueray is fine. I have a boyfriend."

He stared at her for a second. Then, "I don't think so."

"How do you know that?"

"If you were my girl, I wouldn't leave you alone at a bar full of drooling guys. You've turned every head in here. And it's no wonder."

Her eyes narrowed. "What is?"

"Don't you know?" He leaned in, his insides jumping as he breathed in that sweet floral scent again. "You're as beautiful as a goddess."

She sat back, startled. "Well," she breathed, sipped again. "Well, I'm not your girl."

He shrugged. "Like I said, not anybody's. No sitting on the bar," he warned a guy lifting up a woman to the edge. She laughed, surprised, when her rear got bumped back to a stool. Leah turned from the cash register and railed on them. Emmett smiled again at his blonde goddess, and garnished the second drink with a cherry. "So where were we?"

She spared a glance to the growing raucousness around her. "Why did you move back? What happened?" She sounded almost angry. Not like the eager curiosity he'd been faced with for most of the night.

He told her simply, practically rehearsed by now from so many retellings.

"So, what are you doing after this?"

"I thought we were talking about Nashville," she said.

"Just making conversation." He tugged lightly at a golden tendril coming out to play along her cheek.

It was an unexpected, intimate gesture. Her back straightened, and she crossed her arms, resting them on the bar. "And do you always ask out women before getting their names? I don't think you even know who I am."

"Tell me your name. I have to know."

She shook her head.

"Thought we were making progress," he said. He blended the daiquiri, poured it. He might've been a little hurt by her refusal. She was certainly looking at him. "Got your eye on one of these clowns then?"

"If I'm not with anybody, I must be looking." She drew the martini back to her lips and slowly drained it. "And if I'm looking, I must be willing. If I'm willing...you think you have a chance."

He stared at her.

She pushed the empty glass back to him, smiling. "Just making conversation."

Before she could slap down money, he offered his hand. "How about that name?

She took the challenge of it, letting him hold her hand as he held her eyes. The gleam of perfect pure-blue eyes he got lost in, darkened by the dim lighting. He didn't want to let go of that hand, even when he felt her slight pull.

"I'm Rosalie Hale."

Surprise stopped his heated thoughts, slackened his mouth.

"Do you remember now?" she wondered aloud. Her hand slipped from his.

His old friend Jasper's younger sister was not the reserved spoiled girl Emmett vaguely remembered. By the time his mind caught up to the fact, she had tossed down money for the drinks and left with them.

He had to do something. If she were passing time here, he'd find her again. And offer some kind of apology for not recognizing her. Her vacated spot immediately filled with a flutter-eyed woman leaning her cleavage over the bar. He hardly noticed, his reeling mind slowing to amusement. By God, that had been Rosalie Hale. He'd been wrong about nothing changing in this town.

* * *

**A/N: Umm...so this has been my fictastic side project. Three romance mini stories into one. First couple up to bat is Rosalie and Emmett. I hope you will join me for the ride. :) Thanks to dollegirl for prereading, nicnicd and myimm0rtal for betaing. They were all so helpful to me _many_ times.**

**Disclaimer: Twilight ain't mine.  
**

**I feel like I need to have another disclaimer in light of some fandom happenings: I am not a P2P fanfic author. I pre-wrote this fic knowing full well it would be a fanfiction, a gift to readers, and nothing more.  
**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	2. Act One: Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**2.1**

Rosalie wove around packed tables to where Alice and Bella sat. Their coats had been piled up on one side. Her hands shook as she set the cocktails down and slid into the booth.

Emmett McCarty was supposed to be playing pro football for the Tennessee Titans—not bartending in their small snobby hometown. Faced with the surprise of him, and the heavy flirting, she could hardly breathe. Somehow she had managed to play it cool, and throwing back her martini had helped dull her nerves.

"And I thought you offered to get the drinks because _I_ took too long." Alice claimed her Tom Collins.

"You do take too long. Socializing right and left until the ice melts and waters down the alcohol," said Rose. The familiar teasing between them helped her feel normal again.

Alice didn't deny it. "While you were gone, I've heard the most exciting rumors circling the place."

Rose had an idea or two of what Alice was going to say.

"Emmett McCarty." Alice dropped her voice a notch, despite the noise of the place making it impossible for anyone else to hear. "He's back in town, and bartending here this very minute. Did you get a glimpse of him?"

Rose's stomach turned queasy. "It's possible he mixed our drinks."

"And? Does he still look the same? It's amazing how drastically some people change. And I heard about an injury."

What, Rose thought, could she say? At first she hadn't believed it was Emmett, only the tricks of shadow and provocative lighting. Then he'd smiled and that unforgettable dimple winked from the corner of his grin. And the realness of him had come rushing into her senses.

There had been nothing boyish about him anymore, at least, not that she'd seen. God help her, she had drank in his appearance, his solid build moving with efficient movements behind the bar. He was still strong looking in the shoulders and a square jaw to match. His dark hair was short, but long enough to grab onto. A few nicks scarred his chin and nose, making the overwhelming picture of him less pretty but still entirely appealing.

Rose knew that when she lay down to go to sleep that night, the image of him would not be shaken from her memory easily.

Alice looked at her expectantly.

"He's almost the same, but older looking, obviously," she offered. "Why don't you go the bar and see for yourself?"

Alice glanced at the bar, picking up her drink again. "Maybe I will." Then with a sly look at Rose, "He was your biggest crush."

"Barely." She'd hoped that detail was forgotten. "He was into other seniors and young college girls while I was paddling through the sophomore pond."

A varsity football player giving her a schoolgirl crush was now a man freezing the words in her throat and making her mind go blank.

She wished he hadn't been as good looking as she remembered. Then she wouldn't regret all her attempts at garnering his attention when they'd waited outside for Jasper after school. Emmett had seen her as a little sister, speaking nicely and good-humored with a wandering gaze toward cheerleaders and the like.

Her first Thanksgiving home from college, she imagined running into him at the Embassy Cinema or at Shaws. And she'd had her lines prepared. Sweet and carefree, she would tell him how Jasper was and insert a few updates about herself, too.

But her courses became challenging, her workload increased, and that prideful fantasy had faded with every busy semester gone by. She hadn't forgotten him, but she hadn't thought of him either.

He clearly hadn't thought of her. He hadn't even recognized her just now. Still, for the first time in her life he'd had his eye on her, wanted her, and she'd amused herself with his basic male interest.

Alice hurled them down memory lane about Emmett's exceptional defense on the football team—which she of all people hadn't forgotten.

"I thought we were celebrating your victory over the green-eyed Jessica Newton," Rose interrupted.

"Of course we are. She was ready to start trouble. I could see it a mile away. I love my job." Alice's smile was so bright it twinkled in her eyes. "Oh right, and pursuing artistic merit and functionality. To the client!"

Alice clinked her glass against Bella's.

As Alice retold her afternoon with Jessica in greater detail, Rose fought the urge to turn around and search the bar for Emmett. Annoyed with herself, she determined to squash all thoughts of him.

No sooner she sensed a presence at her shoulder and looked up. Emmett's amused eyes met hers in one thrilling instant, then traveled to Alice and Bella. "Champagne?" He held an open bottle and three flutes. "I spotted you here and couldn't resist."

Alice's smile took on a devious curve as Rose's skin pricked warm.

"Are we celebrating something?" Rose asked, accepting the flute he'd just poured.

"Thought I'd make up for before. How's Jasper?"

"He's fine." She took a fizzy sip, trying to keep the tremble away. She was usually very controlled. "I'm sure he'd be happy to see you again."

His gray eyes were fixed on her face as she sipped and spoke, as if still not quite believing it was really her.

"You remember Alice and Bella?"

"Ladies. Nice to see you again."

Bella blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "So you work here now?"

"Part-time. Coach- I mean Harry, his son Seth went on a road trip for a couple of weeks. I have experience so I offered to cover his shifts." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I actually came back to carry on the McCarty family auto business. You've probably already heard from all the noise around here."

They nodded.

"I'm so sorry to hear your plans were changed," said Bella sympathetically.

He waved off her words, bouncing back with a forced smile. "Don't let me spoil your night with a sob story. If any of you have car trouble, send it my way. McCarty's Automotive."

"And if you know anyone looking to redesign a room in their home, send them our way." Despite the alcohol weaving happiness through her, Alice straightened her shoulders and pulled a business card from her blazer and handed it to him. "Dazzle provides high-quality design projects in aesthetics, creativity, and functionality. Please think of us for your future interior design needs."

Emmett accepted the card, studied the logo interestedly. "Very nice."

From the bar Leah bellowed his name. "Enjoy the champagne," he said, and winked at them.

They exhaled collectively after he left. Music flowed back to their ears.

"Is he on the menu?" Alice wondered.

Bella made a dreamy kill-me-now sigh of agony.

"Not funny," said Rose, deflating their air.

Alice puffed back up. "He's just as good looking as he was in high school. No, he's better."

"Must be the champagne talking," she said dryly.

Bella picked up her drink again. "We've all gotten much better looking. Remember those awful orange stirrup leggings I used to own?"

Alice drained her flute. "We had some big fashion mishaps back in the day. Well, you two did."

"Not me," said Rose. "My mother would never allow me to leave the house in anything unfashionable." She took another fizzy sip, her gloating smile snagging slightly at the mention of her mother.

The night grew later. Lights dimmed. Music beat louder.

They danced, drank, smiled, and socialized. It was just the kind of carefree night they needed.

When they were buzzed and too giggly, they pulled on their coats and called a cab. Rose hardly paid attention to her swaying steps on their way out when she glimpsed a last look at the bar.

Pouring a drink over ice, Emmett met her trailing gaze. Her stomach lurched and melted into a warm flutter.

It was all becoming a little too surreal for her. First, Emmett McCarty had miraculously returned home. Second, he was smiling at _her_. Rosalie Hale.

**2.2**

Returning hadn't been a complete mope-fest as Emmett had anticipated. The thrilling shock of Rosalie had also reminded him he had ties to rebuild. The weekend lunch rush was just finishing when he arrived at Jasper's restaurant.

Jasper came from the swinging kitchen doors. Despite the white coat, waist apron, and the serious look, Emmett immediately recognized him. They had changed in their own ways, but he felt that the friendship was still there when Jasper clasped his hand.

"Wow, Emmett McCarty."

"How the hell are you?" They exchanged the customary half-hug and rough pat on the back. Then they slid to an empty table.

Jasper gestured around him. "What do you think?"

"It's really something," said Emmett.

"I like commanding the kitchen."

In that statement, he recognized Jasper's familiar zealous expression, similar to the one Jasper wore minutes before a Friday night game. They used to jump into a body-slamming token of good luck before running out onto the field and roaring war cries. It was hard not to think of his time in high school while seeing all the familiar pop back into his life.

"Sounds fun," said Emmett, taking in the restaurant's high ceilings and cozy seating. It had a modern, spacious style but was comfortable. He wondered if Rosalie had contributed to its design.

"Stressful fun," Jasper admitted. "The owner lets me design the menu and everything. It's a commitment."

"You didn't want to get on the Dazzle bandwagon?"

"I don't think you'll be wondering that after you taste the food." Jasper grinned. "Besides, those girls can handle it. Don't let their looks fool you. If you're not careful, they'll turn you into a_ volunteer_."

"Thanks for the warning. What's for lunch?"

"I got you covered." Jasper disappeared into the kitchen. Minutes later he returned with two dishes, followed by a petite waitress carrying two more. She set them on the table and refilled Emmett's glass of water. "Thanks, Gianna," said Jasper. "And tell Jane I'm off for an hour."

"Fancy," said Emmett as he stared down at the food. "What is it?"

"Well," said Jasper, unfolding his napkin to join him, "we've got a warm duck salad with tangerine, goat cheese and greens; scallops with risotto and shaved porcini mushrooms; and a soft shell crab BLT with garlic aioli."

"That's flattering. It's just me." But Emmett's modesty drowned into a satisfied grunt on his first bite. "That's... indescribable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I didn't think you'd stick around here, doing all of this."

"I realized what I loved to do. And things are happening here." Jasper started on the crab BLT. "I heard you were spending some of your nights at Fire and Ice. Lots of almost-memories there."

Emmett stabbed a perfectly seared scallop with his fork. It melted like butter in his mouth. "That's right. We tried to get in back in the day, didn't we?"

"But those regulars knew our parents." When their laughter died to an easy silence, he said, "What are your plans now that you're back?"

Emmett sighed. "I'm inheriting my dad's shop. He's too old to manage it himself, despite what he says. Other than that, I haven't figured it all out yet. It's been...an adjustment."

"Is your old man having a tough time?" Jasper hadn't seen Joe McCarty recently, but he remembered the man was built like Emmett in height and brawn, though softer around the edges.

"Yeah. His disease is _workaholism_. He won't sell. I had to come back." Emmett put his fork down. "He told me what happened to your parents. I'm sorry, man. I should've been here."

"You were a thousand miles south." Jasper's voice remained level. "The car accident was unexpected for all of us. It was a hard year for Rose. She'd just finalized her divorce when we found out."

"Your sister was married?"

"For several months." Jasper gave him a hard look. "I know what you're thinking, what it looks like. But Rosy isn't like that."

Emmett could only nod once. "I'm sure there's more to it."

There was a lot he didn't know, a lot he suddenly wanted to know. Rosalie had been married, legally committed to someone. He was still getting used to the fact that she'd grown up, matured into a woman. He didn't know what the circumstances of her marriage were, but decided her ex-husband was a complete idiot to lose a goddess like Rosalie Hale.

Jasper reclined in his seat, neatly sweeping the past under a rug with his next words. "Now that you're around, you should join Game Night. An evening for gents only. I have a sweet game room at my place. Poker table, video games, billiards, air hockey..."

Emmett relaxed. "Count me in."

After a pause, Jasper said, "We used to talk about going pro together." He remembered it in a haze of sincerity over beers long after a winning game. "That seemed like forever ago. Time flies, I guess."

"It does. And going pro didn't pan out for either of us."

**2.3**

Next week found the women of Dazzle in a meeting that was going _very_ well. They sat across from Garrett and Kate Pierce in the Pierces' living room.

Kate listened intently to Bella's space-saving setup and was happy with the direction Rose's ideas for colors and style choices were going. Rose was thinking soothing colors with playful accents to liven the atmosphere.

"We're going to give you the most beautiful room for your new baby," Rose promised.

Although meeting with clients was one of Alice's favorite aspects of the job, Rose had warmed to the Pierces that was a feeling beyond professional obligation. Kate was enthusiastic about the project without stifling Dazzle's role, and Garrett was enthusiastic about making Kate happy.

"And after we're finished, you'll have more than enough time for a baby shower," said Alice.

Kate hesitated, her expression clouding. "I don't know if we'll have one. Garrett's family is in Oregon, and mine…"

"They moved to Alaska. It's just been me and Kate doing all of this," said Garrett.

"That's hard," said Bella, offering Kate a tissue. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Kate dabbed her eyes, was comforted when she caught her husband's concerned look. She gave him a reassuring smile. "I really appreciate how easy you've made this so far."

"That's what Dazzle aims to do," said Alice, as Bella put the tissue box back on the table. "Whatever concerns you have along the way, we're here for you."

Garrett loosened the knot of his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He leaned forward to the documents on the coffee table. "So we're agreed on a fixed fee for the project then."

"Yes," said Alice, pointing to the page with her pen. "It applies to the complete range of our services. Conceptual development, layout, and final installation."

**2.4**

Rose zoomed down the main road in her van, keeping her eyes peeled. Twilight made the landscape dim and gray, but not dark enough for the streetlights to shine through. The air had a wet mist that her wipers kept smearing away and she felt each road bump in the clunky vehicle.

Dazzle bought it used when the company had just started up. It did a good job of carting supplies for their on-site projects and their logo helped advertise the company as the odometer put on miles.

She'd had a long day since their morning meeting with Pierce. The Newton project demanded much of her time and energy since it resumed. And the bathroom makeover was certainly more important than thinking about a pair gray eyes and a dimpled grin.

Rose sighed and turned onto a side street—cutting the distance—when the van began to slow abruptly.

She put more pressure on the gas, but the engine sputtered horribly. She had just managed to steer it onto the shoulder with its last few spurts of life. She lowered the music.

She was tired and not altogether in a pleasant mood. She yearned for her warm home and soft bed instead of waiting in the cold and wet with a broken vehicle. The beginning of spring meant there was still a bite to the cool night air.

She tried the gas again, winced as the noise turned to a clicking protest.

A crackle of frustration flared. Habitually she smoothed it to steel. She fished out her cell phone from her purse, and dialed Bella.

There was no answer.

A few cars passed as she tried Alice. After one ring, two loud knocks thumped at her side window. Rose jumped.

It was Emmett, his hair inky black and sticking to his forehead from the drizzle. She rolled down the window.

"Everything all right?" he asked, his grin lazily coming out to play.

"Not really."

He sobered a bit. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I think it stalled. Why are you here?"

He leaned on the door, and she could see droplets beading at the tips of his hair. She could smell earth and soap on him. "I was passing through and recognized your logo," he said.

Of course, the stylish script of "Dazzle" splashed on the side in bright pink against the navy vehicle stood out anywhere. He walked around to the front of it and she got caught up in watching him move. When he stopped and took out a small flashlight from his pocket, she remembered to pop the hood.

He secured it open and ducked to take a look at the engine. Moments later he closed it and came back to her window. "It's hard to see what's really going on. I might be able to get a feel for it by listening."

"Listening?"

He just smiled and offered her a hand as she slid out of the front seat and felt the chilly air on her face. But her middle surged with warmth at his nearness. Before she could linger too much on the gesture, he got in, turned the key and moved his foot over the pedal. It made the same awful noise, but to Rose it didn't seem like he was beating a dead horse. No, the concentration of his brow led her to believe it was necessary. He was studying it just enough.

She guessed this was how he operated at his father's shop, with his keen eyes and serious mouth, mentally working to diagnose the error. And he was certainly hands-on about it.

He swung out, and his gaze snapped to her. "It's raining. You should be waiting in my car."

She realized, with some surprise, that she'd all but forgotten the weather in his presence. Now the drizzle came pattering down on her skin and in her eyes.

He steered her to his Jeep and all but pushed her in.

"Excuse me," she managed disapprovingly as his hand brushed her thigh.

He tried to hold back a smile as she settled in, and started his ignition. He flicked the dials and warm air fanned on her.

"Well what's wrong with it?" she asked, irritated with him as much as herself.

"I think it's the ignition system, but I want to check the main valve in the fuel injector. I'll call our towing service and have them send over a guy. He can bring it to the shop so I can get gritty with it."

He slammed the door in her face and dialed into his phone. He spoke to someone on the line, his voice muffled as she glared from the window. Minutes later he got in the Jeep, wiping his hands on his jeans. Silence closed around them. He turned to her and flashed that devilish grin. "So, want to fog up the windows while we wait?"

Her gut coiled sharply in response. She almost laughed at his straightforward approach. No walls. "Emmett… I bet you say that to a lot of women—if I remember high school correctly."

"But you're not a lot of women."

"I'm—" She was going to say _Jasper's sister_ but didn't want him to think of her that way anymore. She cleared her throat, raising her chin. "I thought you saw your error and made amends with champagne the other night."

He rubbed his jaw. "I've thought more about it. We should catch up."

"Are you catching up or talking me into sex?" She could be straightforward too.

"I've never talked anybody into sex."

Of course, she thought, studying him. All he'd have to do is show up, flash that grin. He'd probably never had to go down the harder road when it came to women. And pro-athleticism only made it easier, she assumed.

"Fine, let's catch up. When you're not working at Fire and Ice and taking over your dad's business, what are you up to these days?"

"Helping out damsels in broken down vans on the side of the road."

"I don't need to be saved. If Alice hadn't picked up her phone, I would've turned to Triple A."

"Looks like you're stuck with me instead."

The thought made her a little lightheaded. "I was on my way home."

"I'll drive you there."

Headlights wavered against the dripping windows and the sound of a heavy engine sighed to a stop behind them. Emmett got out and jogged over to the tow truck. The driver hooked up her van efficiently in the worsening rain. When Emmett returned to the Jeep, he was dripping, all slick skin and his shirt pasted to his body.

Rose twisted her fingers in her lap as he wiped his face with a sweatshirt he had in the backseat. The increasing rain pattered against the windows, muting the noise from the rest of the world. The shared air between them felt too close on her skin. She was sensitive to the rustle of his clothes, his scent of hard work and dampness, and his broad, very real presence.

They'd been alone before, but it was so different from waiting in the high school parking lot for Jasper.

He pulled away from the curb. "Let's do dinner."

She was still trying to keep up with his conversational shifts. Every sentence of his surprised her, made her want to slow it all down and analyze. "I'm busy tonight."

"Next week then."

She had no immediate refusal to give. His quick tenacity tangled her up. She had to focus the conversation back on him. "It looks like you still have a thing for Jeeps. What happened to the old one?"

His Jeep wasn't the same one he'd had in high school, but it reminded her of wanting to be one of the girls riding around with him. She'd often wondered what he said to make those girls laugh, and where he took them to hang out. She imagined it had been some cozy clearing off a dirt road to make out and look at the night stars.

"I put it through hell. In Tennessee some buddies and I, we used to go out in a field and spin donuts. I beat it up and traded it in. What do you think of this one?"

"Feels nice so far. Did you like living in Tennessee?"

"I liked it enough. Nashville has an exciting vibe to it. Good food and music. If I'd met you there, I would've taken you to a honky-tonk."

She laughed. "A what?"

"You've never heard of a honky-tonk? Country music and dancing."

She looked out the window at nothing. "You wouldn't want to date me."

"I know what I want."

"And you're quick about taking it," she guessed.

"I don't like to waste time. Not anymore, anyway."

Rose could understand that mindset. She'd wasted no time in starting Dazzle, and it was after she'd ended a chapter of her life. But experience taught her that matters of the heart were a lot more complicated and deserved more than quick decisions.

"You were divorced," he said when she didn't answer.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Maybe you're not ready for commitment." He flicked a glance at her. "Dinner. It's a baby step."

"Right. Catching up," she said dryly. "You don't care why I was divorced? I might've tricked a rich man into marrying me and left him to poverty."

"That's okay. I don't have any money."

"Then how are you going to pay for dinner?"

His grin sharpened. "That sounds like a yes."

Her pulse quickened under her skin. Emmett had a stubborn streak in him, she was learning. She wanted to learn more. She wanted to know what was underneath the grins and dimples.

"Does your shoulder still hurt?"

"Sometimes..." His smile faded, and a darker emotion shadowed his eyes as he weighed his next response. Gradually good humor triumphed, pushing the light back in. "Especially when it's colder outside. I think I even knew it was going to rain tonight."

"So you can predict the weather with it. At least it's good for something," she said, fighting a smile. But she knew it must've hurt him more to give up his dreams.

"I gained a sixth sense out of a lost career. Life's not so bad." He glanced at her again. "Don't tell anybody."

"Your secret is safe."

As hard as it was to admit to herself, she didn't really know Emmett beyond the teenage fantasies she'd spun of him. A foggy memory was a real man sitting next to her now. He moved back to their hometown, surprising everybody. He pursued her both times they'd encountered each other. She never thought any of this would happen.

But she'd spent the past year rebuilding herself, her independence. She wasn't in a hurry to give it up.

**2.5**

Emmett was whistling the next morning as he went downstairs to the garage. Damn that Paul, he thought. Emmett was going to turn into one of those mechanics, whistling and smoking all day over a busted vehicle like his coworker.

Emmett had forgotten how long nights were from bartending, not getting to sleep before 3:00 a.m. and waking up groggy to the late-morning sun. But luckily those weekend bar shifts let him put in hours alongside Paul during the week. Whether his dad liked it or not.

Tension was high living with his dad under the same roof, so he'd moved his few belongings into the studio loft above the shop. It was one more clean-up project he'd rolled up his sleeves for. The unit used to be rented out to tenants, until the paint on the walls had started to yellow and the plumbing got old and sore.

It wasn't up to its usual standards, but it was still decent enough to live in. Emmett didn't mind waiting longer for the hot water to churn, and he'd scrubbed the walls and floors over the last few days when he could snatch a chunk of time.

His schedule was full. But when his thoughts landed on Rosalie, the alluring newness of her folded in with the familiar, he decided he could make room.

"I'll be back in an hour," he told Paul, and hopped into his Jeep. He had to go save his damsel this morning.

He knew Rosalie was tougher than the classic and fair-skinned beauty she appeared to be, but he liked the thought of showing up to see her. He'd been a little more obvious and aggressive last night than he usually was with women.

He liked that she hadn't given him an ounce of pity when they talked about his career-killing injury. He could roll with the punches, but that didn't mean he liked to express misery over it. She hadn't tried to coddle him or feel sorry for him. No, she'd teased him and lightened his mood. He wondered if he ever really knew her or understood her in their adolescence. Jasper had done a ruthless job of playing the protective older sibling, and Emmett's thoughts had never considered her a possibility for... Well. His mind had ripened since then, and now his thoughts sweetened.

He drove up the long winding driveway to the Hale home. Seeing it in daylight, it looked exactly the same as he remembered, except for some minor renovations to the property and _Dazzle_ splashed on a pristine sign next to the mailbox.

He took in the sunny estate and the expanse of groomed land around it. He and Jasper used to throw the football around where the yard rolled on and on all the way back to the stream.

He parked around the side just in time to hear a loud crash come from within the house.

In seconds he was out of his Jeep and throwing open the side door that used to lead to the recreation room. It was a studio facility now. At that moment his goddess stumbled back with a yelp, falling right into his arms. Rosalie reached for the wall to steady herself, but he indulged a moment and held her against his chest.

She looked back, dazed. "What are you doing here?"

He could get used to that greeting. "Saving you again." He hooked an arm under her legs and lifted her. She didn't fight him off as he carried her to the loveseat. "You might've hurt yourself," he said seriously.

"I'm fine." But her head rested on his shoulder. "I only tripped over that stupid junk." She referred to a few boxes and bags lumped together that were filled with equipment, tools, and catalogs.

"And nearly banged your head on that shelf." Emmett sat down with her, shifted her in his lap. "You okay?" He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

Her eyes calmed and looked up into his. There was a whole undiscovered world in those pale blue depths. Emmett's breath fisted in his chest, but he smiled softly.

She sat up, unsteadily, and slid off his lap to the cushion beside him. "I'm fine," she said again. Her cheeks were a little flushed, but not a hair was mussed out of place. Her hair settled in golden waves around her shoulders.

"Other than almost knocking yourself unconscious, that was the most graceful fall I've ever seen. What the hell were you doing?"

"I was just deciding what to bring and trying to figure out how to explain it to a cab driver."

"Is that all? You scared the hell out of me. I heard a crash and thought the worst."

"You took my van."

"Saved it," he said, putting an arm around her. "Isn't anybody else here?"

"Bella left earlier and Alice is out at a business brunch." She stayed against his side, but her chin had risen primly. He had the urge to pull her by it and kiss her madly. He was definitely mad. She'd nearly given herself a concussion. She turned that dignified chin to him. "Did you have some business here?"

"I wanted to see you." At her bland look he added, "And to see if you needed a ride anywhere."

"I'll gather my things. Since you're here."

His arm around her shoulders squeezed. "You should rest a bit after your brush with death."

He could almost feel her sarcasm and the roll of her eyes. Truthfully, he liked how snug they fit on her loveseat, with her warm curves leaning heavily against him. His body ran on a pleasant hum.

Content, he looked around the room. Her studio was bright and spacious with simple lines. White walls were the backdrops for exploding color. One side, he noticed, was covered in swatches and patterns looking like a million butterflies had gotten stuck. There were papers tacked up on a board, filing cabinets, a table piled with binders, folders, magazines. There was softness, too, in the jewel-toned furniture and fluffy rug by the loveseat they shared.

"Nice place. So this is where all the magic happens."

"If by magic, you mean work, then yes."

She was so serious and proper, he had to laugh. "It's all work with you."

"It has to be when I'm my own boss."

He looked down at her. "And when is your boss going to give you a night off?"

"I'll ask her. You're kind of your own boss too, aren't you?"

"Kind of," he agreed. "My dad is having trouble letting go. But the place is still running. I'm going to work on your van today. I just fixed up the unit above the garage as my new humble abode. It's not nearly as nice as this little studio. I'm thinking of redecorating."

Her gaze flattened. "Is that so? And you want my expert opinion on the matter."

"I'm warning you the place leaves a lot to be desired, so you're not surprised when you spend the night there. Otherwise I don't mind staying here."

She raised a single elegant brow. "Oh, _you_ don't mind. How thoughtful to put my comfort first."

He grinned. "I always try to be thoughtful." God, he wanted to ruffle her stillness, shock her, anything to get an unguarded reaction. Maybe that's why his flirting turned aggressive around her. "I bet your room is soft and smells good. We've got time for a quick tumble." And he wasn't referring to the tumble she'd almost taken out the door.

She shot him a reserved smile. "I don't think so."

"Don't you want to see where it'll take us?" He ran his fingertip lightly up her arm, imagining he could feel her skin beneath the sweater she wore.

She followed the gesture and looked up, coolly studied him, but Emmett didn't miss the darkening of her eyes. He hoped his persuasiveness was working. He took pleasure inhaling her floral scent and feeling the curves of her body at his side. They were so close, and he wanted to kiss her. If he just leaned in, their lips would touch—his smile to her frown. Her lips would soften, they had to.

"The only place you're taking me to is a work site," she decided. "I'll direct you there after you help me load your car."

"Some other time then." He stood and pulled her to her feet, unoffended. Emmett was going to enjoy convincing her.

* * *

**A/N: Dedicating this chapter to Erikajo, because we all need a bright spot and words that take us places. :)  
**

**Many thanks to dollegirl for pre-reading, to nicnicd and MyImm0rtal for betaing, and to SunKing for telling me what a honky-tonk is. And thanks to you for reading!**

**p.s. I don't own Twilight.  
**


	3. Act One: Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**3.1**

Emmett dropped the box of Rosalie's binders on the kitchen counter when he saw the very pregnant redhead sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter.

"Well, I'll be damned. Kate Denali is all grown up." Emmett would've picked her up in a hug if she weren't so far along. Still, he squeezed her shoulders and kissed her freckled cheek.

"Emmett McCarty. You devil. I heard you were back."

"I see you didn't hold out for me," he joked, smiling down at her rounded belly. "Who's the lucky man responsible for this?"

"Garrett Pierce. I'm a Pierce now." She gave him a wink. "If I kick him out, I'll be calling you."

"There's still hope." He helped himself to the stool next to her. "So you've rounded up the Dazzle girls. Rosalie was just telling me about the nursery you're putting in."

"And Emmett forgot to mention his acquaintance with you," said Rose, sliding her bags beside the box he'd tossed down. "Must've slipped his mind."

"Must've," he agreed. "I was so wrapped up in what you were saying about the project." By her narrowed eyes, he could tell his airy excuses didn't fool her.

Alice came in from the nursery-to-be, expertly stepping over the plastic covered floor in her heels. "Emmett, what a nice surprise. We're a bit short-staffed today." She smiled, the picture of heartfelt innocence as he took notice of the small gleam in her eyes. "Jasper's here. I'm sure he'd be grateful to see you. He's been helping out all morning—bitching mostly."

"That sounds familiar. I seem to remember that streak showing itself when Coach whipped us with a tough practice."

Alice laughed as he followed her into the workroom.

As she chattered on about their progress like it was the morning weather, she mentioned Bella was the architect. However, Emmett wasn't expecting the brunette in the cute dress at the Fire and Ice to be the brunette wearing faded jeans, boots, and a tool belt. Jasper and another man wearing working clothes were rolling paint. Sage green stroked the walls in long wet ribbons.

"Bella's got Embry painting and installing today."

"It's looking good so far."

The compliment made Bella smile as she approached. Alice touched his arm and silently returned to the kitchen. "We're on the second coat so it should be dry enough by the afternoon for us to start the carpentry," said Bella. "We're going to put built-in shelves on this wall to keep the room spacious. I only wish Sam was here but he's on his honeymoon, and Jake is at another site." She wiped her forehead on the back of her arm and smiled. "How are you this morning?"

"Well..." Emmett felt an urge to offer his help. Nobody had outright asked him to pick up a hammer, but he found himself wanting to. And winning a few points with Rosalie couldn't hurt.

Jasper had descended the stepladder and made his way to them. He was sweating and looked anxious to be freed. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his aching back, winced. "Bells, don't even start on him. The guy just got here and I'm sure he's got a full and busy day ahead of him. Don't you, Em?"

It was no use. Emmett was already caving. "I think I could lend a hand for a little while. The shop's not all that busy with appointments today." The list of drop-offs he'd seen on the schedule was uncomfortably scarce.

Jasper tisked and sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Maybe I can slip out without Alice noticing," he added under his breath. "She's the one you really need to watch out for. She'll persuade a person to do anything. And somehow...you don't even realize it." His gaze floated to the doorway where she appeared.

Her hands went to her hips. "Jasper, if you're going to stand around talking, you can leave so other people can work."

Jasper gladly took the out. "That'd be me. Good luck, Em. Sorry to ditch, but I'm going to... go. Prepping for dinner service is important, despite what _some_ people think." His eyes slid to Alice accusingly, and he clapped Emmett on the back on his way out.

**3.2**

Rose barely managed an indifferent expression when Emmett had come from the working room an hour later in his well-fitting t-shirt, jeans, and scarred boots flecked with plaster dust and paint. He could've been a calendar page for 2012 "Ripped Genes" Sexiest Construction Workers.

Even Kate's mouth had dropped open as he said his goodbyes, grabbing his jacket that he'd tossed on the back of a kitchen chair earlier.

"Well," Kate breathed after the front door closed, leaning back from the color choices they'd been looking through. "Emmett McCarty was always quite a man. Not one is like him."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," Rose said conversationally.

"Oh, it is." Kate smiled. "I wasn't super athletic in school. All I did was cross-country. I used to run laps around your track field year-round to keep in shape. It was much nicer than the public school roundabout we had. That's how Emmett and I first met. A guy started jogging beside me, bothering me. He knew I didn't go to the academy. That's when Emmett showed up. He shook the guy down with a few threats." She smiled again, remembering the scene like an image brought into focus. "The fact that he towered over the average height and was twice as big helped. The guy never bothered me again."

"That's a relief."

"I wasn't grateful right away."

"Really? What happened?"

"I thought I'd just traded one annoying asshole for another. I said to Emmett, 'Why shouldn't I kick your ass?'" Kate laughed. "He replied with something like, 'You'd only hurt yourself, and I kind of shoved that jerk off so you wouldn't get hurt. But hey, I can call him back if you're into that sort of thing.'"

It sounded exactly like something he'd say, Rose knew.

"Emmett was always good that way. If Garrett and I hadn't been dating already, I would've tried pursuing him if I thought I could keep up. A lot of girls thought they could keep up."

Rose couldn't tell if Kate was warning her or making a joke.

But it was a sobering thought to keep Rose company for the rest of the afternoon as she helped Bella and Embry with the hardware. They had a pair of flawless eggshell-white shelving units to install.

Rose believed in _safe risks_, the kind of risks one thinks over completely before following through. As much as she'd crushed over Emmett in high school, deep down she had never wanted to be grouped with the other girls who'd had their chance.

Every type of woman had fallen victim to his persuasive talents. Eyes were left glazed and sighs remained hopeful. It wasn't fair that he could use all those charming grins to make Rose forget herself too.

Between Royce and her mother, she'd forgotten herself too many times. And what a completely liberating feeling it was to be in charge of her own decisions now.

Therefore, Rose could draw only one conclusion.

If she didn't get involved with Emmett, they'd stay evenly matched and in control of themselves. No one would get hurt.

She squatted next to the tacky-dry wall smelling of new paint, and held down a two-by-four while Embry drilled. They were building a base to align and secure the shelves.

Bella stood with a leveler in hand, looking much like a conductor directing the show. At every step she double-checked the work. Sometimes she'd stand and silently look at the room, then take out her pad and pencil and jot something down. Rose made her own adjustments in her head. Together they saw the room come to life.

With Embry's help they also built a window seat that simultaneously functioned as a storage bench. When they were done it was all crisp lines and right angles.

As Rose swept a pile of wood dust into a dustpan, Emmett arrived back at the Pierce home. Surprised, she checked her watch. The workday was nearly over.

Emmett had accumulated another layer of grime on his clothes, grease marks adding to the paint and plaster. But it looked like he'd splashed water on his face and scrubbed his hands. They were damp and a little cleaner than the rest of him.

"What are you doing here again?" she asked, wincing at the soreness in her knees when she stood up and emptied the dustpan into a garbage bag.

"Here to give you a ride home. Unless you want to go back to my place," he added, leaning that muscled, ample build against the doorframe.

"I can ride with Bella."

"Her truck's a two-seater and she's got Embry."

"Oh." She'd forgotten about that.

But...as he watched her intently, knowing she might need him, the offer annoyed her. She didn't want to be picked up and dropped off like a child, especially by someone who was solely on a sexual prowl.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't feel the need to chauffeur me around."

His eyebrows rose at the coolness in her tone. "Don't mention it," he said, unoffended.

Aware of her professional environment, Rose held back a nasty retort and went into the kitchen to collect her things. Kate was ending a friendly phone call, her fingers twisting absently around the long cord.

"What do you think, Em?" Kate held together swatches of a burnt umber, powdery blue, and sunflower yellow that she and Rose had decided on.

"The blue could be friendlier," said Emmett.

A binder fell from Rose's hand and landed in the bag with a smack. "Friendlier?"

He shrugged. "The green walls are already pretty calm, like the blue. I like fun colors. But I'm not the expert."

"Can I see the blues again?" asked Kate.

"The yellow is warm enough to offset the cooler tones," said Rose to no avail, passing one of the binders to her and opening it to the right page.

She pointed out some brighter blues that would work with the other colors they had already selected. She refused to make eye contact with Emmett. Clients rarely disagreed with her choices on décor, trusting her and paying her for that trust and talent. Second-guessing was the last thing Rose wanted clients to do. But there was Emmett, nitpicking her color choices and casting doubt on her abilities.

Eventually the color palette was finalized. "The white trim Bella's doing is going to contrast beautifully with the umber," she said to Kate. "The tones are earthy and _friendly_"—she slid Emmett a pointed look out of the corner of her eye—"the blue is clear and fresh against the calm green, and the yellow will balance it. Playful and sweet."

"I think it'll be wonderful," said Kate. "I can't wait."

Rose folded everything into her giant tote bag and mustered a smile. "I'll be by again soon. Call Dazzle if you need anything."

Emmett grabbed the box in one arm and went to lift her heavy bag from the counter.

"I got it," she said, hoisting the bag over her shoulder and grabbing her purse.

"Since your hands are full, I'll get the door for you."

Silently they walked out, Rose holding her head high and giving off her best frost.

After they loaded everything in his Jeep, Emmett opened the passenger door before she could get to it. His gallantry seemed very mocking to her now, her annoyance tainting how she viewed his helpfulness.

"Thank you," she said in a severe tone.

"What's up with you? Bad day at work?"

"What are we, an old married couple now?" she growled, then smoothed out her ruffled temper like she'd been trained to do all her life. And frowning would only lead to wrinkles, she reminded herself. She swore Emmett McCarty would not discombobulate her again.

The Jeep backed out of the driveway and he shifted into Drive. She tried not to focus on his large, capable hands.

Stupid, she thought, to have ever let those high school fantasies of him tie her into knots. And worse, to think back on them now when so much time had passed. Well, she _had_ thought of him from time to time. So now he got to show up out of nowhere, mock her pathetic longings with his mere presence, and criticize her color choices? Infuriating.

"You're obviously mad about something. Maybe I can help."

"You've helped enough today."

Her lofty remark only made him grin.

"Look at you—so tightly wound. I'm impressed you're keeping yourself together." He glanced sidelong at her. "I bet it would feel real nice just to let it out."

Her stifled anger began to churn again and she took the bait. "My work is my work. It's the most important thing to me. I started Dazzle when I was in a really bad place and I'm proud of its progress. I don't appreciate you interfering! Not one bit."

She sagged against her seat. All her pent-up anger had released like a hornet escaping through an open window.

The sun burned orange, lowering behind the line of newly budding trees as he made the turn up her driveway. A tense silence had descended.

"Okay."

She looked at him. "Okay? Okay what?"

He kept his eyes on the curving driveway. "Okay...sounds reasonable enough. I respect where you're coming from."

"So that's it. You're fine. No wounded male pride."

He laughed loudly, parking around the side next to her studio, and turned to her. "Wounded? Angel, I recently survived the biggest disappointment of my career. Your temper is no more than pebbles bouncing off a wall." He unbuckled his seatbelt. "I didn't realize my input would make you angry. I thought I was just showing healthy interest in what you do."

"Oh." She nodded, more to herself, as she got out. As good as it felt to relieve her temper, guilt began to work its way up. She'd never unleashed a tantrum on somebody she hardly knew in a personal sense.

He met her around the rear, opening the trunk.

She reached for a bag. He covered her hand with his, stilling it. She made the mistake of looking up into his potent gray eyes. The determination in them was strong enough to unravel her and see all sorts of truths carved inside. "Look, I'm sorry—" she began.

"No." That one quiet word stopped her altogether. "I like when you tell me what's on your mind."

He reached up and his calloused fingertips traveled down her cheek, surprising her. They curled around to the nape of her neck, and dragged her closer.

His mouth came down on hers, sure and skilled, the kiss pouring into her like liquid heat. Her fingers dug into his shirt. She should've been outraged. Her lips parted. She should've denied the sensual intrusion. Her digging fingers curled tighter in need. But she dared not let them wander. The urge to wind them around his neck and up into his hair became strong. Achingly strong.

The kiss had started out insistent, and slowed to linger over the discovery. His mouth brushed over hers again, turning to nibble sweetly. A hum rose from her throat, and that incredible body hardened against her. But the core of herself held back, held on to rational thought.

Yet her body shifted, responding to the growing decisiveness of his touch and the hot slide of his tongue. She moaned, unable to stop the desperate sound, and was embarrassed by it.

He lifted his head, looking just as dazed as she felt. Then he grinned that slow-curving grin. "How's that?" he murmured.

She steadied her voice before speaking. "I won't deny enjoying that."

"I'll try not to be offended by your...composure." He gave a playful flick to a strand of her hair. She blinked at the gesture. "So put together," he said, and grabbed her box from the trunk.

**3.3**

The following day Emmett simply had to tinker in the garage. There was no use letting his mind wander without his hands moving too.

He wasn't used to thinking about Rosalie sexually. His whole mindset had changed because _she_ changed.

And truthfully, he'd never tried this hard or long to convince a woman to have a good time with him. She was holding back. He'd felt it in the kiss. He just couldn't decide if it was because of her divorce or something else. But to Emmett, people were entitled to their secrets. He certainly wasn't going to go blabbing his life story to satisfy anybody.

He put his focus on the car's busted air conditioning system in front of him. Coolant levels were good, and within moments he isolated the problem. The damn capacitor on the outside of the compressor unit was out. He figured he'd have to replace the starter because it wasn't giving the motor any electrical juice. It all made sense to him.

If only he could keep Rosalie's coolant levels balanced. He'd always thought of her as complacent—and a little spoiled. Now she had a way of keeping him off, which only kept him on.

"Em," his dad called from the direction of the front office. Joe moved slowly in his heavy gait over the linoleum and onto the concrete of the garage. "Em."

"I heard you," Emmett said, wiping grease on his rag and jeans. "Give me a sec before you go tinkering with something and hurt yourself."

"I'm not going to hurt myself," Joe grumped as he turned away from the engine and sat on a nearby stool. "Been doing this a lot more years than you."

"I'm doing okay. It's like riding a bike," he said.

"Yeah, yeah." Joe waved him off with a meaty hand. "When are you done working for Coach?"

"Seth gets back in a couple weeks. Then I'm here for good—in case you were thinking of changing your mind."

"Hell. I'm not that much of a fool," Joe grumbled. "I'm not getting younger. I know that. But don't expect me to up and leave to soak up sun at Cape Cod with a martini just because you're here now."

"Hey, you never know. You might meet a nice rich divorcée with a couple of sweet grandkids."

"I'll be the first to admit I'm too old to start something." Joe shifted in his stool with rare embarrassment. "Your mother's probably there. What is she on, husband number four? I'd rather be sitting on my thumb in here."

"You might miss out."

"Now look who's trying to keep who from the shop," he said, making Emmett grin.

His dad used to take pride in him with claps on the shoulders, bragging about him to his buddies, whether it'd been for a winning game or replacing hoses and plugs. Nowadays he saw that his dad wasn't there to instruct him for the sake of telling him it was a job well done. Joe was relying on him, needing him, or else he would lose everything he'd built.

He'd say, "All right. Well, back to it." And in those words there was no more loud approval. There was only unspoken gratefulness between them.

Successfully working together was a different matter altogether. Hopefully, within the next six months, Emmett would really be running this place. He'd revive the business in a town he used to be so eager to escape. And his dad would see that he could handle it.

**3.4**

Rose pulled apart her closet. Spring cleaning was healthy. Thinking about Emmett's kiss wasn't. She organized piles of Keep, Maybe, and Throw Away. Most of it ended up in Keep. Still, it was long overdue that she put her things in order. She imagined her mother might approve of her efforts if she weren't busy social-climbing all the angels in heaven to give the Lord a piece of her mind.

Rose hadn't thought about the kiss in ten minutes. Crap.

"This is nice." Bella picked up a red silk camisole as she came in, bringing with her the mouthwatering scents of dinner from downstairs.

Rose took it from her and shoved it in her drawer of delicates. "I need to organize all this junk."

"It's beautiful junk." Bella looked around at the large open walk-in closet. It was filled with colors and shades, like a rainbow had woven its way throughout the room. "The closet of a queen," she said, and fingered a hanging teal cashmere sweater. "By the way, I saw you yesterday."

"I saw you yesterday too. We were doing the Pierce nursery."

"No." Bella smiled sweetly. "The fuck-hot kiss afterward."

Rose dropped the shirt she'd been folding. She picked it up. "It was nothing."

"A whole lot of fuck-hot nothing."

"And what were you doing spying on me?"

"I was putting my tools away and got an unexpected eyeful."

Rose decided to hell with folding the shirt and shoved it on a hanger. "He caught me off guard."

"And cranked up the temperature. Romantic too."

She forced a laugh. "Your need to make everything romantic is really outdoing itself this time."

"Oh, Rose," said Bella with that doe-eyed, dreamy-sigh expression of hers, "denial just doesn't look good on you." She held up a purple suede jacket rimmed with tassels, her eyes acquiring a smug glint. "You should return it along with this."

Rose tossed the jacket in the Throw Away pile. "That was a phase," she said of the jacket, "and so was Emmett. He was just a teenage dream. And I need to move on."

"It's not a phase this time."

"The phase was hardly a phase! I looked twice. Had a tantrum. Had a kiss. And now I'm done looking." She kept herself busy rummaging through clothes.

Bella amended the formula. "Two looks, a lifetime crush, and a fuck-hot kiss."

She turned finally, exasperated. "Would you please drop it, Bells?"

"If you're sure... You should tell Alice about the fuck-hot nothing. Or she'll feel left out."

"I'll deal with it at dinner, I suppose."

Bella fixed the crooked shirt she had hung, and gave her shoulder a brief squeeze before leaving.

When Rose had enough of being swallowed by clothes and colors and heated thoughts, she fled to the kitchen. Bella was at the stove dishing spaghetti with garlic lemon sauce onto a plate and Alice poured herself a glass of white wine.

"I found out some interesting news today." Alice swirled her wine and took a sip as Rose tensed up. "Apparently Lauren Crowley and Jessica are having some neighborly competition over whose house is grander. I ran into Mike Newton at the bank earlier. His wife's been nose to nose with the Crowleys. First it was the garden. Then the pool house. Then she contacted us for the master bathroom. And so on."

Rose relaxed. "Mike must be doing well with his parents' sporting goods chain if he can afford his wife's remodeling frenzy." She scooped out a helping of spaghetti onto a plate and handed it to Alice. Then she served herself.

"Must be. I see Newton's Outfitters popping up like mushrooms all over New England."

Bella grabbed the bottle of wine as they headed to the table, giving Rose a meaningful look.

"I have some news too. Something happened with Emmett yesterday and Bella is forcing me to tell."

Bella filled the other glasses. "I'm a big meanie."

"Spill every hot, throbbing detail," said Alice, reaching for the pepper.

"Then I might disappoint you," Rose began between bites. She had a hard time focusing under the potency of their attention, but managed to keep her cool expression intact. She'd had plenty of practice folding away her feelings. Alice and Bella knew her the best, and even then she threw up her walls sometimes.

"He grabbed me. I didn't know what was happening until it was happening."

As if they were in a meeting, Alice began the discussion with important questions. "What were you two doing? Walk me through it."

"We were doing nothing that would... I was unloading my things from his car. That's it."

"I saw the action," Bella gloated. "It was an impressive-looking kiss. One might even say it was _fuck-hot_." She received a pointed glare from Rose.

"And you didn't even speed-dial me," Alice grumbled.

"I was too surprised to move," said Bella. "I wish I'd gotten a better view myself."

"Well I'm sorry we didn't wait until both of you were able to get front row seats."

Alice studied her over her glass. "I thought you'd be happy about this."

"Happy?" Rose straightened the napkin in her lap, unsure of her feelings. "He's always had an easy time with girls. I don't think he's given me a second thought."

"Do you want him to give you a second thought?"

"I'm not ready for any relationship. Not after Royce. You know that."

"Okay. Then who's saying anything about a relationship?" Alice twirled a small forkful of pasta in the sauce. "You might as well have a fling, Rosy! Maybe it's time to let loose since that sham of a marriage. You'll feel better. You deserve it."

Rose didn't comment, but the idea began to plant itself. Emmett's rigid muscles and weight against her, a quick and clever mouth doing magical things, and those strong, able hands holding her. She didn't doubt a night with Emmett McCarty would be exciting and memorable. She just hadn't decided if she wanted to be tacked on to a long list of past lovers.

Bella had polished off half her plate. "But what would Jasper think of all of this?"

Rose poured herself a second glass of wine. "Why should it mean anything to my brother if it doesn't mean anything to Emmett? He enjoys the game of flirting and a stolen kiss. What I need is to stay focused on Dazzle."

* * *

**A/N: We'll see about that, Rosalie! Thanks to dollegirl, nicnicd, and MyImm0rtal for all the betaing.  
**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	4. Act One: Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**4.1**

Rose looked forward to their Saturday brunches. Saturday meant she got to sleep in late and wake up to smells like coffee and French toast wafting from the family kitchen, and the sound of happy voices in her home. Sleepily, she went over a mental list of what she'd accomplished in the past week. Color palettes were brainstormed, furniture was decided on, fabrics were considered for Pierce, and preliminary work was in development for Newton.

Awake and dreamy, she stretched in her bed of billowy soft comforts. Emmett drifted to her mind, and suddenly, she became clear-headed and alert. She got up, spent a little time on her usual routine, and put herself together in jeans and a sweater.

Downstairs, Bella sugared a giant bowl of sliced strawberries while food sizzled behind her on the stove. "Pancakes with a blackberry sauce and sides of maple sausage, toast, and fruit!" she announced. "I think there's a frittata in the oven, too."

"Where is everybody?" Rose asked. Surely those happy voices she'd heard weren't part of a dream.

"Alice ran out to pick up her dry-cleaning and Jasper's outside setting up the patio furniture. He told me to be the flipper and watcher. He always insists on doing everything."

But that was Jasper, Rose knew. He felt responsible for taking care of everything and everyone. The Hales had turned out to be a serious pair.

Rose took a mug from the drying rack and poured herself coffee. "Is the weather nice enough to be sitting outside?"

"It's gorgeous today." Alice came through the back door, slid off her designer sunglasses. "Not a cloud in the sky. I'd say spring is just as impatient to get here as we are to see it." She hung her plastic-protected suits on the hooks in the foyer.

Jasper pushed open the sliding glass door and stepped inside. "I think we're ready out there."

The doorbell rang.

"Are we expecting somebody?" Rose asked.

"I invited Emmett," Jasper told her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she managed stiffly.

For once, Jasper didn't pick up on her changing mood as he headed down the hall. "It's just Emmett."

It wasn't _just_ Emmett, she wanted to tell him, but held it in. She bent to check her reflection in the stainless steel vent above the stove, then realized she was caring too much about her appearance. She went back to her coffee. She wasn't trying to impress anybody, not even Emmett McCarty.

The door opened and his deep, rich voice floated down the hallway.

Emmett walked in, relaxed, smiling, and approachable. As he leaned against the counter, hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets, she noticed he was freshly showered. The edges of his hair looked damp and she smelled traces of wintergreen soap. Irresistible, she thought unhappily.

And he hadn't looked at her once since arriving.

He joked and talked with Jasper as if nothing had happened between them. There were no brief glances or secretive smiles. The bare walls were getting more of his eye action than she was, which was something she definitely wasn't used to.

The hard truth wrapped around her like a cloak of frost. It had all been a game to him. He probably grinned and smirked and kissed women _all_ the time. She'd been saying as much, mostly to protect herself, but it hurt that she was right.

She turned away and went to assist Bella with the last bit of preparation.

"What's wrong?" asked Bella under her breath. "You look like you're about to invoke a second ice age right in the middle of our home."

"Nothing. I don't know. I'm uncomfortable."

Bella could see it wasn't the time or place to talk it out. "If you want to busy yourself, get out the stuff for mimosas."

As Rose went to the refrigerator and collected the champagne and orange juice, Jasper thankfully led everybody and the procession of food platters outside to the patio. But when she closed the refrigerator with her elbow, it was just Emmett and herself left in the kitchen.

"Hey."

She spared him a glance, catching the flicker of hopefulness beneath his polite smile. "Hey yourself," she said, unyielding.

He took her bad mood for sass and buried his smile in a sip of coffee. "Need help?"

"Nope." She strode outside, not caring how closely he followed.

"Yeah, by senior year we ran the football team," Jasper was telling Bella, who was helping herself to a pancake.

He and Emmett regaled the girls with heroic football memories. Alice made smart remarks on the side.

Rose watched them all, especially how Emmett fused right back with her brother. From now on he would be at every social gathering where Jasper was concerned. And while their conversations kept feeding off each other, punctuated by laughter, the past pulled her back like a demon; she felt like the teenage girl staring at them from the sidelines. The teenage girl who few people had understood.

Emmett's gray eyes, though they weren't looking at her, still did strange things to her insides. When he quirked his mouth a certain way, those eyes silently laughed. And she remembered all over again how skilled those lips really were. Hot and insistent and exploring.

Then he glanced at her, averted quickly, and flexed his jaw.

She downed her mimosa.

The meal carried on cheerfully—with or without her input. She couldn't stand to sit there like a fool in front of Emmett any longer while they lingered over coffee. Rose stood from the table and began to clear her plate, causing an abrupt lag in the chatter. Even Alice, who usually herded everyone to help out, raised an eyebrow.

With the grace of a well-mannered Hale, Rose pasted on a smile and offered to take a few other empty plates—to appear helpful rather than disruptive.

Inside, she wordlessly rinsed plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. Then she filled the sink with soapy water and took a sponge to the pots, annoyance rising to anger as she scrubbed vengefully. She shouldn't be giving Emmett two seconds of her time. She was too busy. Her life wasn't ready for him.

Alice and Bella came in eventually, stacking more dishes on the counter, watching her warily.

"They left," said Alice, dropping a pink slip of paper and a ring of keys on the counter. "Of course, Jasper's gotten out of cleaning up."

"He did do the cooking," Bella reminded. "And he had to give Emmett a ride home."

Rose paused and looked at the items on the counter. "What's that?"

"Your keys and receipt." Alice picked up a drying cloth and started on the pile in the rack. "Emmett brought the van with him today. All fixed up and working."

"What receipt? I haven't paid for anything."

"He said he took care of it. The paper is for our records." She handed the dried pots one at a time to Bella, who put them in their proper place and wiped down the counters.

Rose drained the sink, water and her thoughts circling in a dark descent. She didn't want Emmett doing her favors. She was going to fix that the moment she got the chance.

**4.2**

In a few minutes Fire and Ice would open its doors to the public. Leah was lining up clean glasses with the same enthusiasm one used when cracking knuckles before a fight.

Emmett tossed the rest of the sliced lime wedges into a container when a flash of blond hair outside caught his attention.

Rosalie threw open the door. She spotted him instantly and marched forward, fierce as a warrior angel sent to kill him. He froze, feeling a sharp tug of foreboding in his gut.

"We don't open for another five minutes," said Leah.

"Deal with it." Her blue eyes glittered dangerously and her blond hair was backlit by the sunset glowing hot through the windows. She waved a piece of paper under Emmett's nose and slapped it down on the bar. "What the hell is this?"

He was still getting over the magnificent sight of her. "For the van."

"Yes, I see it's for the van. Why does it have a zero balance?"

He straightened, grabbed a rag to finish wiping down the bar. He was catching on that her mood was a lot darker than her usual frost. But he couldn't figure out why, so he'd let her lead him down the path of hellfire and thorns. If anything, he was curious. "I took care of it. Free of charge."

"Oh, you took care of it." Her nostrils flared as she threw her purse down on the bar and dug for her wallet. "How much was it?"

"Wait a sec. I said it's on me."

"How much?"

"Forget it," he snapped. And he wasn't smiling now.

Her eyes took on a deadly glint, bewildering him. Women liked favors, he thought, didn't they? He was in no mood to play guessing games.

"What is this, some kind of IOU to call in when you're lonely at night? A kiss and a car fix isn't getting you one."

He turned to Leah, who silently watched the scene unfold with growing, unconcealed interest. "Could you give us a minute?"

"All the time you need." Leah folded her arms and leaned lazily against the back counter.

"Get lost, Leah."

"Fine." She pushed off the counter and huffed out. "I'll still be able to hear from the back," she muttered.

Emmett rubbed his temple. A headache started to form behind his eyes. "I thought you'd appreciate the gesture. Not storm in here looking like you want to kick my ass. Just when I think I understand women..."

"I'm not _women._ And I don't like owing favors to people."

"I'm not asking for anything in return."

"Really," she said in a tone showing how little she believed him.

"I'm straightforward. Have been since day one with you."

"That sounds exactly like what you _weren't_ doing at brunch." Rose shifted, smoothing out her discomfort, but he could see that the annoyance was still there. "You barely looked at me."

"You're damn right I didn't. And believe me, it wasn't easy." His own reasons were running deeper than he'd thought. "I didn't realize how much I wanted you until Jasper was there and all the things going through my mind froze up."

Emmett remembered it well, and the shame that had followed. He didn't know how to keep it flirty and friendly with Rosalie without wanting more. Just a bar separating them now made his fingertips itch.

"When you say things like that, I don't—" She looked away, focusing on the scratched surface of the bar. "Look, Emmett. I have a serious problem with accepting favors."

Doing things for people was how Emmett operated, whether it was a favor or good deed. He'd never run across someone who openly despised his good nature. And just as his ire reared back indignantly, his eyes met hers.

Those light blue eyes weren't filled with hatred, but with... apprehension.

Emmett took her hand in his, holding firm when she made a halfhearted attempt to pull away. "I think I get it now," he said.

She didn't say anything, just looked at him with widening, suspicious eyes as he leaned closer and gentled his tone. "Some favors are about power. You don't like being under anybody's thumb." One of his hands began to stroke the back of hers, feeling the small nicks from hard work. Further proof that he was right. Rosalie preferred to do things herself.

"That's right," she said, a flush rising up her neck. She seemed embarrassed that he'd figured it out so quickly. "What, no smart comments or laughs?"

"No." Truthfully, he was sad for her. And with that sadness came anger and a wish to protect her from whoever had turned her cynical. "I want to know who he was."

Her elegant brows furrowed. "Who?"

"The bastard who did you that favor and used it against you."

Unconsciously, his grip tightened on her hand. When she made a small sound of protest, he let go. But he didn't apologize. He wanted to know.

"It doesn't matter. I should go."

Emmett grabbed her purse before she could gather it. "Your ex-husband?"

"No." She paused. "My mother. I see no reason to dredge up my dysfunctional childhood, but let's just say I'm used to gifts that aren't gifts, and expectations chained to them." She folded her arms across her chest. "Are you just going to keep my purse?"

He hadn't expected that answer, and his readiness to act deflated. What was the worst he could do? The woman was already dead. And the damage had been done. He handed Rosalie her purse. "It doesn't go with my outfit," he said dryly.

She shouldered it.

Emmett picked up his rag again. "I'll give you a bill for the van. I know this great little restaurant. Say...tomorrow night. Seven?"

Her expression fired up again, but her voice was level. "I never agreed to dinner."

"We can look over the bill during good food and wine until you're satisfied." His dimple winked out.

"Then I have terms of my own. If I don't enjoy our dinner date, you agree to leave me alone."

Emmett had to think about that for a moment. To give up trying was definitely something he didn't do without a fight. And he knew that even if he agreed, he'd be lying. Well, he'd just have to make sure she did enjoy herself to make sure he stayed truthful. "All right," he said eventually.

She turned, tossing him an unreadable look over her shoulder. "Don't be late."

**4.3**

Rose had looked away from him. She'd never looked away from anybody, hadn't expected him to understand her.

At least she'd gotten away with the _last_ look, the one that sent men off with dashed hopes and crestfallen expressions.

It was easy to dismiss their feelings, but not when it came to Emmett. And in person, Emmett was a strong force, and his determined, ingenuous expression had a way of lowering her guard. Had a way of making her feel things, and she didn't know what to do with those feelings. Feelings in general never seemed to fit anywhere comfortably.

She wasn't sure if she really wanted Emmett to leave her alone, but she'd been very curious if he would agreed to.

Work was what she needed to stay focused on.

She'd spent the day familiarizing herself with Bella's plans for the Newton project and created several different tile patterns for Jessica to choose from. Then she explored accessories. Details, Rose knew, were so important.

Eventually she had to stop working and allow her mind to reset. Colors and patterns could mash into one big pile of muddled second-guessing if she didn't force herself to break away from the work and study it the following day with fresh eyes.

That's how she'd planned to operate with Emmett. Assess the situation, then go back to it with a clear head.

As she stood inside her walk-in closet, sore and tired, she was having trouble keeping a clear head and making any decision.

Keep it simple, she told herself when overwhelmed on any project. Keep it simple.

Her routine was solid, had been for years. As a Hale, she was a pro. She lotioned her skin until it was soft and satiny. And she spent time on her hair, getting the blown out waves to settle and shine and frame her face and shoulders. When she looked at herself, she was satisfied.

But she noted, with further satisfaction when she answered the door, that she could make Emmett speechless. No flashy grins or smart remarks, and he wore a dark jacket and nice jeans that didn't have grease stains and scuffs. He cleaned up well, but there was no mistaking the vitality and gritty strength simmering beneath the pretty package.

He stepped inside, his eyes staying on her. "You look... nice." The last word sounded strangled. She turned and grabbed a light jacket from the hall closet. Emmett caught the way her top hung low in the back, revealing a path of pale, soft-looking skin. "Really nice."

"Thank you." Catching him off-guard was doing wonders for her ego.

It was a warm evening, and he had lowered the top down on the Jeep. The drive had a fresh breeze blowing through her hair. All her work was coming undone. But in the distance the sun died over the city in a spectrum of peaches, blues, and violets. It was a quiet thrill to chase it toward their destination.

He street-parked beside a restaurant that looked like a hole in the wall and a seat-yourself kind of place.

"There's not much to it," she said, eyes looking for a sign in front when there was none hanging.

"Wait till you taste the food." His confident grin returned and he led her to a table near the back corner of the dining area. A busboy promptly set out glasses of ice water and steaming bowls of lentil soup.

"It comes with every meal," he said, watching her as he stirred with his spoon to cool it off.

"It's more interesting than your average bread basket," she agreed in a tone that didn't reveal either disdain or pleasure.

Emmett was having a hell of a time figuring her out.

They blew the steam and sipped. "You probably wouldn't come back here. You're used to upscale places."

"Upscale, is it? You did go to private school with us, in case you forgot."

He shrugged once in agreement. "My mom had a good habit of sending back money. But money isn't always status. I'm talking about lifestyle."

She conceded he had a point, but she'd never admit it to him. "I might be used to finer places, but it doesn't mean I enjoy them." She slid her bowl aside when she was finished. She'd eaten every last drop just to prove her own point. "Where's the bill you owe me?"

"Right to business." He shook his head, unfolding the paper from his inner jacket pocket, and slid it across the table to her. "Relax, angel."

She looked it over. "Fifty-two dollars? You only charged me for a part."

"It was nothing." When her eyes narrowed, he said, "You could've replaced it on your own if you'd read a manual."

She drew out her checkbook. "You'll have to show me. What was wrong with it?"

"The starter motor. I replaced it. The battery was fine." He accepted the signed check without a glance, folded it away. "So, you don't like fancy places. Finding that hard to believe."

"Believe what you want."

She didn't miss the polite conversations at country clubs, the empty laughs on yachts, all the other activities meant to showcase status and draw out people's weaknesses. That's when it hit her. She was perfectly content right where she was, at this no-name restaurant with Emmett. She opened the ugly laminated menu, hiding the surprise she felt.

"What's good here?"

"I like the sampler for two. Comes with a little of everything." He didn't bother with the menu, but looked at her thoughtfully. "I believe what I see. You don't like to be pushed in a category."

"Is this a therapy session or a dinner date?" She put the menu aside and met his eyes.

"We're understanding each other."

"I'm not sure I really understand you."

The waiter approached. Emmett reluctantly leaned back and put in their order.

"Wine?" Emmett asked her.

"Red, please."

The waiter listed a few, his pencil poised over his pad. When she decided on one, he turned to Emmett.

"And I'll stick with water."

Emmett sat back. "Ask me anything."

"This isn't an interview either." She had to admit he looked very good in his buttoned down shirt.

"Isn't it? Divorce, that must be hard to get over."

"That was the easiest part. It was the most polite and unfeeling separation. I didn't like him anymore and he didn't like a woman who couldn't adore him." Royce had been polished, educated, well mannered, and he'd bored her to death. Her wine was brought. She sipped, liked the dry taste, and sipped again. "You're thinking I'm a cold bitch." It's what her mother had called her, though at the time Rose had thought it ironic.

She saw he was definitely thinking something, the way his eyes considered her. "No," he said. "Calling a woman a bitch is just misunderstanding her on purpose."

She'd been trying to shock him, but he sat there undisturbed while fresh curiosity dug into her. "You're speaking like you know."

"My mom. Well, she was called a lot of things for opting out of parenthood. It looked like abandonment, I'll give them that. But she'd said goodbye to me. She didn't disappear or anything. We still keep in touch. People didn't understand."

Rose knew he hadn't grown up with a mother. And he'd been a favorite of their housekeeper, Mrs. Cope, when he and Jasper hung out at the Hale home after practice. His mother, she remembered, was a vibrant, eccentric woman who had picked Emmett up from school once, and her own parents' circle of friends had whispered snide comments about the adventuresome woman when she came to town.

"What else didn't they understand?" She circled the rim of her wine glass, burning to know.

"She isn't meant to be tied down to one place. She needs excitement and newness. I can't blame her for being who she is. I have a little of it in me too."

Almost too simple, she thought, to whittle down that kind of childhood loss. But then she saw...that he could forgive because his mother hadn't pretended.

The food arrived. The platter set between them was decorated with hummus and pita, falafel, pomegranate chicken and roasted meats, tomatoes and fried cheese, and salad. She decided to sample everything. Emmett waited while she helped herself before he loaded his plate.

He leaned over his plate as he ate, and a familiar memory stirred Rose. He used to eat a stack of six PB&J sandwiches for lunch everyday. She would sit at her own table with her friends and watch him in secret amazement as he inhaled each one. He still had a big appetite, with food, women. With life.

"When it all comes down to it," he said, "I have more of my father in me. Family comes first, and I'll do anything to make sure he has an easier life. He's a stubborn hellion, but he raised me right, and I'm here to repay it."

"I can't imagine any amount of stubbornness stopping you."

The food was delicious, the wine warmed her, and she found herself smiling and interested in what they talked about.

Emmett thanked the waiter when the man refilled his water. The meal was winding down.

"What made you get into Dazzle?" he asked.

Not many people ever asked Rose that. They knew her social status and assumed she was only playing at a career instead of building one.

"After Royce and I were over, I moved into my own place. A little apartment. It was nice because it was mine." She didn't notice at first when Emmett took her hand, but didn't pull away as he lazily played his fingers through hers. "I'd already made up my mind by then not to do something because my parents expected me to. It was never just about décor. That empty apartment was a fresh slate."

The low lighting of the place only deepened the gray of his eyes, made his strong feature more prominent. She could fold herself up in that warmth, relish the hint of danger beneath it. But she slid her hand from his, took up her wine again. "You see, Emmett, I won't be distracted. Not even by you."

His grin spread, sharp with a hint of wicked. "You're quite a woman, Rosalie. But that's one thing you're wrong about."

**4.4**

"Welcome to Game Night." Jasper showed off his game room to Emmett.

It was like old times when they'd horse around with the football after school and see what other kinds of trouble they could get into. Only now, their gaming equipment was refined and high-tech; their beer was better quality; and they could make their own rules for trouble.

The home had a refined luxury, but within Jasper's means. He saved diligently like his father had, enjoyed what he owned, and didn't squander like his mother. Jasper was more interested in taking pleasure in the things he owned rather than living wastefully, surrounded by useless possessions.

The billiards corner was Jasper's real pride and joy, with a plethora of gleaming cues hanging on the wall, and fresh chalk. He had Monday nights off, so Game Night became his tradition.

Emmett needed the pick-me-up. His date last night with Rosalie left him with a busy mind. He understood divorce, but when she told him how civilized the whole thing had been... People were entitled to break down, shed tears, have messy lawsuits. It was unnatural to feel nothing, but for Rosalie it was expected of her. Emmett had reached for her hand to soothe her, but mostly to prevent his fist from hitting the table.

They went over to the gaming consoles, beers in hand, to watch two friends duke it out in Smash Bros. A roar went up among the group whenever a player lost a life and bounced back. A pile of money started a modest bet.

The players were at an even score until Donkey Kong caught the Smash Ball and unleashed his power on Kirby, pummeling him off the screen. Mixed shouts of rage and cheers went up as the loser threw down his controller. The winner gloated while the money pot was counted out to his supporters.

"Let's play some pool," said Jasper. "I'm too restless for poker and I'm not willing to cough up money for Smash Bros. Stripes or solids?"

"Solids." Emmett grabbed a cue and some chalk.

They played a few rounds, their competitive streaks climbing.

"Who else is still around from high school?"

Jasper squinted down his cue and took a shot. "A few other crowds. Angela and Ben Cheney, Riley, Bree, Eric. I've seen them around."

"Angela and Ben got married? Good for them." Emmett circled the table, strategizing his next move.

"Yeah. A lot of the in-crowds settled here, surprisingly. Rode on their trust funds to college, partied hard and passed just enough, then moved right back."

"You're a trust fund baby."

Jasper grinned. "Not denying it."

"At least you're doing something with it. You and Rosalie." He'd been trying to get on the topic of Rose without forcing it.

Emmett wanted to ask him what had really happened to Rosalie's marriage. But he couldn't do it without keeping his anger leashed. Truth was, more than protective instincts crackled in him. He felt an ache for the young woman she'd been.

"Neither path we chose is without hard work. If I'm a chef all my life, I won't be sitting with my feet up unless I start an empire." Jasper shot a stripe dead-on and sent it home.

Emmett observed the precision of it, reevaluated his options in the game. Ruthlessness, he thought, must be a Hale quality.

When the third game broke a tie, Jasper in the win, it was late. They called it quits.

While Jasper kicked everybody out, Emmett hung back and asked about the video game systems.

Jasper slid a PlayStation game in, eager to show it off. He stretched out, crossing his ankles on the coffee table.

Emmett did the same and they played in contented silence. They were two soldiers battling aliens on some abandoned space ship.

Jasper's jaw clenched in concentration and his fingers pushed over the buttons of the controller to navigate throughout the game. Seeing the fierce expression instead of the easy smile wasn't encouraging to what Emmett wanted to discuss.

In his simplified, straightforward way, he blurted it out.

"I took Rosalie out last night."

"Thanks, bro. She needs to get out more. All she cares about is work."

"Yeah-" He shook his head. "No, I mean like a date."

Jasper swore at his soldier that tumbled into gunfire. "I hate this game sometimes. Wait, what?"

Emmett hadn't been playing anymore, and when Jasper's character died, the Game Over menu dripped red on the screen.

"I kissed her, too."

Jasper turned to him. "You kissed Rose."

"Yeah."

"Whatever you're playing at, it's not funny."

"I'm not laughing..."

Jasper chucked his controller across the coffee table. "What the hell am I supposed to say to that?"

"You could be okay with it."

But Emmett knew, as Jasper got up from his seat and paced, his friend's temper was sharpening at a vicious rate.

"Jesus, Emmett. I didn't realize moving back meant taking advantage of Rose the second you see her."

"Look, I'm trying to be straight about this."

"But you crossed a line." Jasper stopped to stare, his blue eyes hardening to ice in the same way his sister's did. "I should beat the shit out of you."

"I figured you'd want to." Emmett got up, facing him man to man.

Jasper didn't want to beat Emmett up, never thought he'd have to. "Well how the hell did you expect me to react? It's been great catching up with you. It's like a day hasn't gone by. But then you moved in on Rose."

"If you're going to punch me, then just do it and get it over with." And if he remembered Jasper at all, he knew the guy needed a good explosion before there could be any attempt at calming down.

It was fast, faster than Emmett expected when Jasper's fist rammed into his face. Surprise and the jab of pain sent him into the side of the couch. He tasted salty copper, and the drop of blood stained his finger when he reached up to find his lip sporting a fresh cut.

In a moment of riled defense, he threw a punch back, the impact sending Jasper into the coffee table and knocking over empty beer bottles.

They glared at each other, fuming and dully aware of the blooming bruises.

"I'm going to take her out again. She's going to say yes again."

Jasper's fists clenched. "That's impossible." He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea of his sister _with_ his friend. What the hell, he wondered, was Rose thinking?

He picked up the beer he'd been drinking, chugged a third of it, then held the cold bottle to his cheek. "Why her? Why can't you find some other chick?"

"You think Rosalie is replaceable?" Emmett grabbed his own beer, finished it off. He knew at that moment she wasn't. "Look, I'm still Emmett McCarty, your friend. Minus a football career and a good shoulder."

Angry lines in Jasper's face only deepened. "Yeah. I remember the same-old Emmett McCarty. If you hurt her—"

"I don't want to hurt her." It was the only honesty he could promise.

There was nothing else left to be said. Emmett left.

* * *

**A/N: Ruh roh, things are getting heated! Thanks to MyImm0rtal for betaing and dollegirl for prereading. Any mistakes found are completely mine.  
**

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Act One: Chapter 5

_Where did we leave off? Oh, right. Emmett and Jasper had just gotten into an angry argument about Rose. Emmett wants to date her, Jasper wants to protect her. Fists went flying._

_p.s. I don't own Twilight._

**Chapter 5**

**5.1**

Over her morning cup of coffee, Rose flipped through images of Aphrodite-style mermaids, looking for the one to best complement the Newton bathroom project. She pored over details, from scaly fins, backdrops of shells, seaweed, and floral life to the ethereal, peaceful mermaid that never suspected the viewer spying on her.

Jasper walked in, frazzled fatigue in his eyes and a bruise on his face.

"What happened to your face?" she asked, observing him with a cool expression.

"You should see the other guy."

"What are you talking about?"

"Emmett. You and Emmett. He told me about you two." His anger set to a low simmer.

Rose set down the book, concealing her surprise. All she'd done was dissuade Emmett from pursuing her.

"There is no me and Emmett," she said. "No one asked you two to behave like a couple of fighting wolves."

"So you two didn't kiss, you didn't go on a date."

"I didn't realize I had to run a casual dinner by you."

Rose knew her answer was flippant. Jasper always looked out for her, and had taken it more seriously since their parents passed. At the moment, his expression looked like water about to boil over.

"You know what I mean," he said.

"Last I checked, I was an adult, able to make my own decisions. This isn't high school anymore where you get to play big brother to your defenseless little sister."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," he said. Jasper knew of Emmett's proclivities toward women. Emmett didn't toss women aside, but he certainly went through them quickly. "He's been with a lot of girls."

She didn't want to remember Emmett's high school reputation with girls, then reminded herself she wasn't looking to pursue anything with him anyway. But the way Jasper tried to _manage_ her really got under her skin.

"If that's all you're worried about, you can leave."

"All I'm worried about?" Jasper placed his palms on her desk and leaned forward. He could really square her with a look. "I give a damn. I'm your brother so I'm going to butt in a little. And I can barely wrap my head around the possibility of you and my oldest friend. He's not even your type, for God's sake."

"My type," she repeated. "You're used to Mother's type."

The only type Rose had been allowed to have was a cleanly shaven, expensively dressed, born-to-fortune man with a lukewarm personality. Dinners, shows, afternoons on yachts, hearing about ambitious business plans at the sacrifice of her own. _"A job? You already have my wealth. If you want a pet project, why don't you do some fundraising?"_ Royce had said dismissively.

And now Emmett was trying harder than Royce ever did. He'd asked her questions about her work, about what inspired her.

Maybe Jasper was right about Emmett getting around, but he didn't treat women badly. How would she know anyway? She'd never been his lover. But while Jasper tried to convince her it was a bad idea, he almost depleted his own confidence in Emmett. She knew Jasper, though he may be angry with Emmett right now, thought well of him. And Jasper rarely thought well of anyone.

"Why did he tell you in the first place?" said Rose.

"Because of The Rule between bros. Telling me is the only thing he gets points for."

She mentally sidestepped his answer because she found the weakness in his reasoning. "What I'm hearing is, he's good enough to be your friend but not good enough for me."

"I— That's not exactly what I meant." Jasper tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"I think you have to choose," she said, finding her stride. "You trust him as a friend or you don't trust him. If you don't, then _I_ shouldn't trust him."

"You know when people make good friends but terrible room mates?"

Rose let out a short laugh. Jasper really did amuse her sometimes, especially when he knew he was losing an argument.

He tried another angle. "Girls have to earn each other's trust, right? Well, guys are automatically friendly unless one breaks The Rule. That includes making passes at _my_ sister."

"I had no idea you knew so much about women."

"Very funny, Rosy." He used her nickname, so she knew he wasn't really mad anymore. He sat on the corner of her desk, looked down at her open book.

"Jessica Newton wants something like this for a mural in her new bathroom."

"An odd choice," he said politely. "Are you going to go out with him again?"

"He's interested, but I don't have room in my life. I have a business to run." She met Jasper's eyes. "I haven't seen you this worked up in a while. This isn't the first time men have been interested in me, you know."

"I know, but none of the others were my friends. It was easier to plan their deaths."

"Well, I think you've made your point. Go away. Don't you have a kitchen to run?"

He threw on his usual slanted smile, though the line of it was taut. "I think I'll introduce an extra dinner special tonight. I'm feeling adventurous."

Or rampageous_,_ Rose thought."You love torturing your kitchen staff."

"Not as much as I love torturing you." He side-hugged her, planted a loud smacking kiss on her head.

She didn't miss the smile fall before he turned away.

**5.2**

Inside the small front office of McCarty's Automotive, Rose watched patiently as Joe McCarty sat behind the desk grumbling at his computer.

The office smelled like hard work, of filed papers, car fluids and grease coming in from the garage, and a pine-scented air freshener. It was a cramped space, but the linoleum was clean and magazines were stacked next to a chair.

While Rose didn't hold herself responsible for her brother's actions, she felt compelled to smooth things over.

"Mr. McCarty?" she eventually said, drawing the man's attention.

He looked up, his scowl disappearing when he took her in. "Can I help you?"

"Rosalie Hale. I'm here to see Emmett."

He rolled back his chair to get a better look at her. "Jim's girl? Good hell. When did you grow up?"

"I don't know but it was too quickly. How are you? You must be glad Emmett's back."

"Oh, sure," he said, but his smile directed itself at her. "Call me Joe. So what are you doing with your life?"

She learned immediately that Joe McCarty was a very brisk, direct man. Once he got enough details about her life that he deemed sufficient, he talked her ear off on subjects that ranged from the community, politics, and general McCarty family facts. He was well informed as much as he was filled with useless information.

Emmett came in from the garage, wiping his hands on a rag. "Dad, do we have that estimate for Mrs. Greer's Honda around here?"

He stopped short when he saw her. Even in casual clothes, she looked pressed and polished. Her light golden hair gathered into a side ponytail at the base of her neck and rested into flowing coils of silk over the front of her shoulder. Her blue eyes were cool, but not unfriendly. And her breasts...he might die and go to heaven if he ever got to see them. They were large and round and rose every time she drew breath.

Emmett got his voice to work again. "Rosalie."

"I've been keeping her entertained for you," said Joe.

"Sounds like you're making trouble." A good-natured glint filled Emmett's eyes.

"It's you who should be staying out of trouble." Joe turned to her. "Look at that swelling on his face."

Rose saw the cut on his lip. It had hardened to a scab and a bruise bloomed from the corner of his mouth to his cheek. As sorry as she was that it happened, she couldn't really blame her brother.

"The reason for it is standing right in front of you, Dad."

"Don't blame this on me," said Rose, arching an eyebrow. "I don't encourage violence over talking sensibly."

Emmett dug through files of documents on the desk. "Sensible is going to sleep on time."

"Never mind that," said Joe. He glanced at his son. "She's something."

Emmett found the estimate he was looking for, and went back into the garage, bringing Rosalie with him.

"I suppose mental filters don't run in your family," said Rose.

"Honesty has its own kind of charm, don't you think?" Another mechanic looked up from the hood of a car, introduced himself as Paul, and winked at her. "Keep your eyes on your work if you want to keep them at all," Emmett growled.

"He was only being friendly."

"You told Jasper to butt out of things, right? You understand."

"How did you know that?"

Emmett's glanced over his shoulder at her resolute eyes and the stubborn angle of her chin. "A good guess."

The garage was a work in progress. Areas of it were organized, other areas were cluttered. But work continued with a few cars lined up at different stages of service. On a top shelf was an old, deflated football, reminding Rose that years of history were in this place, even when Emmett had lived in Tennessee.

They stopped at the other end of the garage, farthest from Paul. Emmett leaned against the vehicle he'd been working on. "You look nice today."

He played with the edge of her sleeve before his fingertip traced down her arm.

She stepped back, just out of reach. "I wish you and my brother hadn't fought."

"That makes two of us." He absently touched the bruise on his jaw.

Rose took a deep breath through her nose, kept her mouth in a flat line. She had her personal issues, but she knew the difference between polite and nice. She recognized when niceness was deserved.

"Look, Emmett."

He rocked on his heels, eyes lovingly tracing every curve, then lingering. "I'm looking. I probably shouldn't, knowing how Jasper feels." It was a weak concession. When Emmett wanted someone, he didn't let anybody else stop him.

"I won't get in the middle of your friendship with my brother."

"You already are, angel. Nothing you can do about it now."

He grinned as her eyes turned icy. "If this is your idea of amusement, you can go to hell."

Emmett crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Would you rather I sneak around, seduce you by night, laugh with him by day? That wouldn't make me look very good, would it?"

"You must be delusional if you think anything is happening between us."

Emmett shrugged, but that silent laughter remained in his eyes, which only irritated her more. He could frustrate her because she let him get to her.

"How about that lesson on changing starter motors?" he offered.

Even though conversations with Emmett sometimes felt like Rose was bashing her head against a wall, she was glad he changed the subject. At this rate, she'd go along with his game, gracefully, then cut him off at the knees.

"There's no time like the present," she muttered.

He grabbed a socket wrench and two pairs of safety glasses. "Safety first," he joked. He pushed one into her hands and the other on his face.

"A handyman and a comedian," she said dryly.

"I'm an excellent multitasker."

Rose faked an impressed look. "Such a rare quality in a man."

"You'd be surprised at all the things I can do."

She tried to squash the liquid-heat feeling that his double entendre caused and followed him outside to a pick-up truck. He lifted the hood and disconnected the battery.

"We can work on this one. I won't have to jack it up because it rests high enough off the ground."

She grew puzzled as he climbed under the vehicle on the passenger side. She had assumed they'd be standing over the hood.

"Coming?" he called, his voice sounding muffled from the cramped space.

"You want me to crawl under that dirty truck?" Rose was dressed in her work clothes as she was prepared to go a site after this. But décor was a far cry from engine grease.

"Get all those fine assets of yours down here," he barked.

Rose hesitated, then crawled under to join him, shifting on her back awkwardly until they were shoulder to shoulder looking up at a smelly, dirty underside. She remembered to put the glasses on as flecks of dirt fell.

Emmett held back a laugh, seeing her chin tilted up defiantly. He pointed to where they'd be working, but with the complexity of fitted parts, Rose had a hard time focusing until they went in.

He fastened the wrench over a nut. "This gives you leverage for unscrewing the nuts. Yours were corroded, so I replaced them with new ones. These ones aren't so bad. There's three to undo to release the starter motor."

After he did the first, he let her do the second while holding the starter from falling on their faces. In the dark cavern of the engine, he pointed out the third nut that supplied the power.

They were very close as he spoke and showed her. She liked that the mechanical work began to make sense by doing, yet a person would have to have the skill and experience to diagnose problems and understand how to fix anything properly. Emmett wasn't only hands-on and able, but well informed.

She unscrewed the last nut, freeing the starter motor completely. It was a dirty, clunky thing that matched the rest of the grimy exterior.

"Right here." He pointed to a wheel of teeth at the nose of the starter. "On your old one, it wasn't grabbing the flywheel, which is this cylinder. It was just spinning and hitting the edges."

She understood what he explained, if in abstract terms. She glanced from the flywheel to him. Emmett was looking at her, first to make sure she comprehended, then for just a moment, his eyes darkened, deepened to something warm.

Her eyes lowered to his generous mouth, then cut away. Remembering how well he kissed was a bad idea.

She turned back to the truck, but couldn't quite erase the effect of his gaze. It was in the pale pink that settled on her cheekbones, the awareness in her eyes.

"When we put it back, these gears have to line up," he continued after a moment, and adjusted the starter in its socket a few times. She helped secure the mounting bolts, but he went over them to make sure they were tightened evenly. "If it's crooked, it won't meet the flywheel."

The lesson had lasted twenty minutes tops.

"Not that hard, was it?" he said.

"You were right only to charge me for the new part."

"I like being right."

She rolled her eyes. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Rose got out from under the truck and brushed off her clothes. Emmett climbed to his feet and reconnected the negative cable to the battery. After he shut the hood, she followed him into the garage and he put the tools and safety glasses away.

She shouldered her bag. "I have to be at a site. Thank you, Emmett. It's been… unusual."

"Leaving without a proper goodbye?" he said.

Emmett may be brawny, but he was quick too. He yanked Rose against him, trapping her in a vice-like grip. "You're into proper," he murmured, and fit his mouth to hers. His kiss was far from proper. The heat of it bloomed inside her. His lips slanted and parted hers, as confident and straightforward as ripping off clothes. Her heart thudded double its normal rate and her mind blurred.

Just as quickly he released her and went back to work. Rose stood alone, thoughts muddled and growing irritated. She left the auto shop, feeling less sure of herself.

**5.3**

Rose tried to avoid seeing Emmett, but in a small rich town he popped up more than she liked. When she got morning pastries at Marshall's Bakery for Dazzle's meetings, she had almost bumped right into him. His size made the bakery look like a doll house. He was ordering a coffee and flirting with young Katie Marshall behind the counter. She helped customers while her mother baked in the back kitchen.

"Cream and sugar?" Katie asked, flushing and having a hard time meeting his eyes. When he asked for just cream, she was eager as a puppy to please. "Are you settled here for good then?"

"If you keep baking those bear claws, I'll never want to leave."

She giggled again, handing him his coffee.

When Emmett noticed Rose behind him, his shameless grin and dimples cozied up to her.

"Well aren't you Mr. Chatter this morning," Rose said, letting her impatience show. After all, he was holding up the line. If you counted herself and one other customer who had just walked in.

"It's called being social. You should try it sometime."

His silent laughing eyes were a little too intense for Rose this early in the morning. She put on a silky smile and turned to Katie to give her usual order. By the time she had her box of muffins and pastries in hand, Emmett was gone.

After Dazzle's meeting, Rose spent the better part of her day transferring her sketch of the mural on the newly constructed wall of the sauna. The wall had been prepared with water repellent and an oil-based primer and covered with waterproof latex paint. Nowadays latex paint came in a large variety of colors and finishes and it would be easy for her to mix a suitable palette.

Her shoulders and knees ached from reaching and squatting, and she'd lost count of the times she'd swept her hair back from her face as it loosened from its clip.

Bella had spent time with a plumber and an electrician to re-route and add the necessary fixtures. Then a company was brought in to install the heated flooring system.

Throughout the comings and goings of these services, there were the usual butting-head conflicts between design and construction, and Rose didn't know how Bella tolerated the irritations.

Occasionally Dazzle stretched its creative power against the conditions of Jacob's construction agreements, causing the partnership to tense. But then Jacob seemed willing to tolerate any hurtle when faced with Bella's velvety doe-eyes and sweet smiles.

Rose herself sneered at the tension as she explained to the crew what type of textile pattern she wanted. The design was going to be nothing less than perfect.

The tiled backdrop would be pearl-white to echo the shimmery, glossy effect of real seashells. Breaking up the static backdrop would be a line of glazed blues: prussian, cobalt, teal, ultramarine. Underneath the border, unassuming patterns of greens and soft pinks would dot the pearl-white walls and marble floor. Rose had also toyed with a seductive quality to ground the nautical flair: glints of onyx-black.

She began packing away her artist tools, not sorry to leave the Newton site earlier than planned.

Bella approached her as she threw the last tool in the box. "Are you leaving already?"

Bella's working clothes were covered in a fine layer of dust, which had reached parts of her face from absent swipes of her hand.

"I can't do much more to the mural until the tiling is finished. I was going to check with Esme's store on the status of new furniture I ordered for Pierce. Do you need anything while I'm in town?"

Bella thought about it for a moment. "Actually, yes. Would you mind picking up a few things for dinner tonight? It looks like I'll be stuck here late." Bella patted her pockets. "I thought I had a grocery list around here somewhere. Here it is! Just a few things…"

To Bella, a few meant fifteen to twenty. Since Rose knew little about what went into cooking a meal, she accepted. Whatever cooking genes Jasper got, none had been passed on to her. "See you later, Bells."

Two heavy bags of groceries later, she leaned against her vehicle, arms full, and fumbled for the keys in her purse with her pinky finger. A familiar rumbly laugh caught her attention. Emmett stood in the next lane over, helping old Mrs. Goff with her groceries.

Well, wasn't he just Mr. Helpful? Lifting heavy things that showed off the thick muscles in his arms.

Mrs. Goff clasped her bony hands in worship. "You are such a good boy. And so strong. Are you seeing anyone? I have the prettiest granddaughter. Single and still looks good after four kids."

"Thanks for thinking of me, Mrs. G. Er, I'm not looking to settle down just yet."

"You call me if you change your mind." Mrs. Goff looked him over again, hungrier than her usual granny lust. "I had an affair with a man who looked a lot like you when I was young."

Emmett held the door open as the old woman got into her car. Her nose barely rose above the steering wheel. "I can't argue with good taste. Take care, Mrs. G. And drive safely."

Rose had just managed to hook her keys up with a finger, but when she groped for the right one, they slipped from her hand.

The sound of them hitting the pavement made Emmett look over.

"Need a hand?" He didn't wait for an answer and relieved Rose of her burden.

Rose picked up her keys. "Mrs. Goff is a little old for you."

Emmett's dimple winked at the corner of his mouth. "She was eyeing me, wasn't she?"

"I think you should go for it. You don't seem like the picky type."

"Is that jealousy I hear?"

Rose let out a short laugh, trying not to stare at his big hands holding her grocery bags. His t-shirt revealed the outline of his chest muscles. "Are you kidding? Me, jealous of Mrs. Goff? She's three times my age."

She opened the trunk just as his voice lowered to an intimate level. "You're definitely jealous. It's making you even sexier. Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?" She could feel his breath on her ear, and shivered. It was the last bit of chill left in the early spring air. Or something.

Despite her beauty, she didn't feel sexy a lot of the time. Royce had complimented her plenty, but he'd been so polite and distant about it. The better Rose looked, the better he looked, and that's what had really mattered. Her mouth formed a tight line and she took one of the bags and shoved it into the trunk.

"Jealousy is weakness. It should probably be avoided as much as possible."

He stacked the second bag next to the first one. "Then call me a weak man. I'm jealous of any guy who gets a few moments of your time."

She could hardly accuse him of being weak, not with his impressive physique so near. That liquid-heat feeling fluttered inside her again. Annoyed, she slammed the trunk door shut and looked at him. "You're insane." He was hot.

She spun around and got into her car. He caught the door before she closed it, draped a muscled arm over the frame. The gray in his eyes was as impenetrable as a thick cloudy sky. Steady, unmoving, and endless with hopeful rays of sunlight leaving and coming again.

"Maybe you'll agree that there's a certain madness to lust, Rosalie."

She'd heard and read about it, but never experienced it herself. The idea of giving control over to a feeling that was too mindless and vicious to leash was worrisome. But looking at Emmett, sensing that sizzle in the air every time she saw him, could make even the most resistant woman curious.

"I guess there is," she eventually said.

He closed her door. "I'll see you when I see you."

"That seems to be a lot lately."

"Then we might as well get along." He grinned, and she thought he was going to kiss her again. Anticipation for it sneaked up on her. But he stepped back, looked at her for another moment, then headed into the grocery store.

**5.4**

Emmett threw much of his pent up lust into fixing cars. They had a steady income of customers. Emmett did the legwork, but Joe still called the shots. Work was tense, but outside of work was becoming unbearable. They had dinner a few times a week, in which Emmett would inspect the contents of his dad's refrigerator, then buy fresh groceries. His dad liked his steak, milk, and canned goods. Things were going to have to change in more than one area of Joe's life. So when Emmett set a plate of fish and rice in front of his dad, Joe's untamed eyebrows rose to his receding hairline.

He sniffed warily. "What the heck is this?"

"It's better for you, Dad. Just eat it."

Joe made feeble attempts, turning most of it into broken scattered bits across his plate. "It tastes like armpit."

"You don't even know what an armpit tastes like."

"Doesn't matter. I'd rather die than eat this."

"So die already."

"And I hate rice. Where's the mashed potatoes?"

Emmett finished off his plate. "There isn't any."

"I won't give up mashed potatoes."

"We'll try for it next time."

Joe pushed around his food, nibbled pieces of it from his fork, and in general, made dinners difficult.

"I'll send you to bed with an empty stomach."

Joe's hands fisted around his silverware, and he leaned over his plate like an angry canine whose master threatened to steel his food.

"Don't pull that on me. This is my house, my rules." Nevertheless, Joe shoveled his dinner into his mouth. "I'll sneak down later and make a real meal."

Emmett leaned back in his chair, relaxed. "I restocked your kitchen." Therefore, he knew what his dad's choices were.

"My own son is trying to starve me to death. Then you'll take over the business before I'm cold in my grave."

Emmett rolled his eyes.

The next day Emmett went to Home Depot. A pipe under his sink had leaked the entire night and Emmett had woken up to a slippery kitchen floor that he'd almost met face first. Some good morning. He'd turned off the water supply and dried the area, but still hadn't fixed his bad mood.

The last thing he wanted to do was struggle with plumbing before a long day of mechanical work and tense, snappy discourse with his dad.

He bumped into Rosalie on his way out of an aisle just as she was going in it. "Rosalie."

"Emmett."

Her face wore minimal makeup, and her skin looked fresh and clean. No amount of cosmetics could change the fact that she was so beautiful and enticing. Just looking at her made his breath stagger. His mood improved fast. And someone must've raised the temperature.

She went to move past, but he struck up a conversation. "On a Dazzle mission?"

"Yes. We're redesigning the Newtons' bathroom."

"What are you here for?"

"Latex paint." She continued walking and he joined her side.

"I was thinking of repainting my apartment, too," he heard himself say.

One of her elegant eyebrows rose as she glanced at him. "Really."

Too late to take back the idea now. He went with it. "There's just so many colors to choose from. I'm overwhelmed. Help a guy out."

"I really wouldn't know where to start. What style are you going for?"

They passed the varnishes and primers, ended up at the display of color swatches. He guessed this would be her comfort zone, would open her up.

"A manly style, obviously," he said.

"What a shame. You'd look great against pink."

"Nice try." They turned and faced the display, and indeed, the choices were overwhelming. "I'm dizzy just looking at this. How do you manage? I've seen the corkboard in your studio."

"Then you might have noticed that the board is white."

"I don't follow…"

She sighed. "I doubt the complexities of color theory interest you."

"Try me."

Her expression softened the slightest degree. She plucked a green swatch, set it next to a swatch of turquoise. She didn't say anything, held it there for moment. Then she held the green square next to a high-saturated yellow. "Look at the difference."

It was the same green, he knew, yet the color seemed to fluctuate.

"Against turquoise," she said, "there are too many tones of blue that the green loses its vibrancy. The yellow makes it pop, and the green even appears darker. Colors change by comparison. The brain is tricked."

"Tricked... That doesn't sound fun."

"The white corkboard keeps me in the right perspective. Against a white background, the colors stay in their true form, so to speak."

He looked down his shoulder at her. "You like staying in the right perspective."

She slowly put back the swatch to its correct place. "I do."

"And what happens when your perspective changes?"

"I suppose I'd have to right it."

He folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the swatches, but his vision had turned inward. "Sometimes it's about balance. When I mix paint for collision damage, I have to get the ratio of thinners and hardeners correct with the color."

"Then you do know something about colors," she said approvingly.

"I know about cars," he countered. "If you had to choose a color out of this rainbow, which one fits my manly style, hmm?"

Rosalie avoided his eyes and concentrated on the swatches, scanning, considering, lingering. A quick glance at him and she bit her bottom lip. His attention couldn't have been anymore intense or focused. What was going through her mind?

She drew a swatch out, stared at it for a moment, then handed it to him. _A warm gray._

The other grays in the display ranged from pastel to cold slate-like shades. Except the one in his hand. It had a warm, earthy tone to it. It was perfect. When his eyes met hers, they held, and he felt like he was close to discovering something important about her. The shield in her clear blue eyes weakened.

"Emmett McCarty, I thought that was you." A small woman with light brown hair and sharp eyes approached him.

"Chelsea," said Emmett, surprised. "It's been a while."

Chelsea took this as an invitation to linger. "Since high school. Unless you count that one night over college break," she said in a lower voice. By the look on Rosalie's face, she'd heard every word.

"Er, what brings you to a hardware store?" he asked, noting her done-up hair and tight dress. She looked more fit for a party than Home Depot.

"Why, all the handy men." Chelsea laughed loudly, her hand tracing down his arm. The hardware store was apparently the new place to pick up guys. Emmett tried to keep things casual and stepped back, but her manicured nails held on deliberately as she waved over another woman. "I want you to meet Heidi."

Heidi's statuesque figure moved with all the disciplined finesse of a model walking down a runway. She pinned Emmett with a smile that oozed heady seduction. When she stood beside them, creating a circle that closed Rosalie off, her movements were smooth, calculated, and feline-like. "A real pleasure to meet you."

Emmett's grin strained at the corners. Both women seemed seconds away from humping his leg. Rosalie inched away. No way in hell was she abandoning him now.

"And this is Rosalie Hale," he said. "You remember Jasper's sister?"

Chelsea dismissed the introduction for a split-second, then her eyes lit with an idea. "How is Jasper? The four of us should really all go out some time. Heidi, you would love him."

Heidi agreed and they both looked satisfied with themselves.

"Nice to see you again," said Rosalie, her voice tight and steely. She made a smooth retreat.

He stared at all of those generous curves walking away, and sighed. Then Chelsea was back in his line of vision. "So how 'bout it? It'll be just like old times."

He put a friendly hand on her shoulder—to restrain her. Chelsea smiled wider and her lashes lowered. "Mmm, Emmett."

"Listen, I gotta go. Funny running into you."

He passed a few aisles, eyes peeled. But he found himself going up and down the length of the enormous store twice. Rosalie had left.

* * *

**Ugh, I am so sorry this took forever. ****I had to reorganize my outline, and I don't know why but I really struggled with this chapter. It's gone under numerous transformations. There was a lot of late-night drunk writing too. ****Some is betaed by the lovely MyImm0rtal, and pre-read by dollegirl, but a lot of it is just me revising like a crazy bee. All errors are mine.  
**

**Thanks YouTube for that video on changing starter motors, and Twilight Lexicon for reminding me there was some human named Katie Marshall.**

**And a big thank you to Katinki and anybody else who had rec'd LITA to The Lemonade Stand a few weeks ago. It felt like warm butter sliding over my heart.**


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